Amarie & Haldir: Paths of Destiny
by Juliediane
Summary: Amarië, a halfelf, seeks to enter Lothlórien on a twofold quest and meets Haldir, March Warden. Sparks fly, and the two soon find that their destinies are intertwined. Updated with corrections, 121906v AU!
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

_Cormamin lindua ele lle, meleth nín_--my heart sings to see thee, my beloved, my daughter.

The Elvish words came to her in dreams. Lessons they were, of a sort. Each time a light, very bright, very white, obscured her vision of the Teacher. Yet when it happened, when the dreams came, she felt his presence, saw the outline of his form, absorbed the thrilling presence of her father's magnificent spirit.

And always, always she yearned for more.

Sometimes he held her hands; sometimes he touched her cheek. Always she could feel his love. Always his voice was like magic, like cool water flowing over crystal, soothing and lovely, a bewitching hymn to elvish ways and elvish wisdom echoing throughout the mystical Halls of Mandos, like the clear ringing of silver bells in that magical place of waiting in the far off land of Aman.

It began when she was two or three, just learning to express herself in the common tongue of her mother's people. At this same time, at night and in dreams, she learned another language from her father, the Teacher, the words wrapping around her soul, enveloping her in their sweet, seductive sounds.

"My daughter," he would say in the fluid and melodious Elvish tongue, "I love you well. The time will come when you will want the knowledge I pass to you. Learn these words, heed my lessons, and know that someday you will be glad for the knowledge of this, the most beautiful language in Middle Earth or any other place. Listen, my darling, and sleep well, my daughter. _Gerich veleth nín._

And thus it came about that Amarië learned to speak Elvish, though she never met an elf in the flesh until much later, when she was fully grown and much aware of her own feminine power . . . .

tbc

(Gerich veleth nín - you have my love)


	2. First Meeting

**Part 1 – First Meeting  
**

"According to the map, we should reach the Lothlórien woods this day. Surely by nightfall, at least." With sharp eyes, Amarië scrutinized the landscape ahead for signs of danger. Seeing nothing to be alarmed about, she cast a quick glance at her brother.

"Aye," Ennis responded, his voice quiet. "And I pray your kinfolk will not slay us on sight." He did not sound optimistic, for he shared the acute distrust and dislike of Elves so prevalent among their people. "The further we travel, the more I feel that our plan is madness. They will never share their knowledge with us, nor accept you as one of their own. I confess I have come to doubt my own plan and it is most unsettling."

Amarië was weary, her own optimism waning. Six weeks had passed since they had left the land of her birth—six weeks of walking with scarcely a rest, through deep forests and over snow-capped mountains, wading through ice-cold streams and rivers, always on the lookout for Orcs and other evil creatures of the wild. Two dozen stalwart men traveled with them, more or less under her command, though it sat ill with some to accept a woman as their leader. They only stood it because of the respect they had for her young half-brother Ennis, who, alone among them, knew the secret of her heritage.

And even Ennis had never hidden his distaste for the fact that Amarië's own father was a Lothlórien elf. He considered it a blessing that she had not inherited the pointed ears that would have betrayed her origins. In his eyes, her heritage was painful and embarrassing, a family scourge to be concealed from all. Yet her heightened senses, doubtless passed to her from that same source, had proven invaluable, especially during the past month.

Amarië brushed back a long strand of dark auburn hair that had escaped its braid. "It would be helpful to me if you would not speak so dismally. I will need all my confidence to do what I must do. Besides," she added with a sideways glance, "you forget how adept I am at handling males."

A small, bitter laugh escaped him. "Nay, I do not forget. I thank Eru you are my sister, else I might fall under your spell like all the rest. You are a witch, Amarië. It is the main reason these men follow you. That, and your skill with the bow."

Yesterday they had been attacked by Orcs. Fortunately, it had been but a small party, and although the creatures had come upon them suddenly and with great ferocity, no one had taken serious hurt. Amarië had killed three before some of the men had even drawn their swords. The memory hovered near, making the men uneasy. None of them had been bred to be fighters, but they had taken up the sword and the bow as the dark times worsened and the need to defend their homelands increased. Ennis had more skill than any of them, thanks to Amarië's instruction.

She had received her first hunting bow at the age of ten, gifted to her from her stepfather, whom she had wrapped around her finger from the moment they met. When other girls were playing with more feminine items or helping their mothers with women's work, Amarië had begged and wheedled for a bow until at last Ennis's father, a simple country farmer, had given in. 

From the moment she held that first bow in her hands, she had been fascinated by it. Long hours had she practiced for years on end until later, with a larger, better quality bow, she could hit the smallest targets from great distances, although not with consistency. Being self-taught, she had no one to show her how to improve, what to do differently than she was doing, or how to fashion better arrows. But she had the advantage of being fast—faster than Ennis—another legacy from her elven father, she supposed. She could fire off three arrows to every one of Ennis's, much to her brother's frustration. It was to his credit that he did not begrudge her skill—or at least not much.

"How is your leg?" Ennis's sudden question caught her off-guard.

"Well enough," she answered evasively.

In truth, her leg ached damnably, but she would never admit to the weakness. She had sustained the injury two weeks ago during another orc attack. An Orcish sword had swung too close, slicing through the fabric of her leggings and into the soft flesh of her thigh. An inch deeper and she would have been crippled, but instead it had only been excessively painful. Ennis had bound the wound and it was healing, though not as quickly as she'd hoped. No one seemed to notice her slight limp, or if they did, they did not mention it. With satisfaction, she recalled that the orc who had caused the wound had not lived long enough to see her bleed. 

"Perhaps the Elves can heal you of the scar," Ennis commented, his tone pensive. "I've heard it said they have all sorts of strange powers."

Amarië frowned. "I don't mind a scar. It bears witness to my courage."

"No one doubts your courage."

Oh, but I do, she almost said aloud.

It was a humiliating truth she would never utter to Ennis.

Deep on the inside, she was always afraid, deathly afraid, though not of Orcs. What frightened her was the sick knowledge that she was caught between two worlds—the world of humans and the world of Elves. Belonging to neither, she felt eternally alienated, torn in half, drowned in a well of uncertainty.

What was she? How could she ever know herself? Even Ennis considered her an aberration, a freak of nature, an embarrassment. Her mother, lying on her deathbed, had apologized for her weakness in allowing herself to be seduced by Amarië's handsome elven father. A wanderer, he had been. A gatherer of knowledge and hearts. Never trust an elf, her mother had whispered before she died.

Amarië had taken the warning into her own heart, at the same time wondering if she even dared to trust her dreams. Was her father truly dead? Weren't Elves supposed to be immortal? If he was dead, he must have been slain. And if he was alive, who had spoken to her in dreams, taught her the elvish tongue?

She sighed heavily and stifled a yawn. Too many nights had she lain awake while the others slept, her ears attuned to the night sounds. She doubted she had elvish hearing, but she did seem to hear things that others missed. Perhaps, like her heritage, her hearing and her eyesight lay somewhere in that misty border between the two worlds, elven and human. And so she was a watcher and a listener, ever vigilant, ever attempting to earn acceptance from those around her while at the same time masking half of her true being.

Always hiding and deceiving in order to fit in. Seeking the unattainable.

When she was younger, she had used her beauty as a weapon, to achieve a desired goal, to draw a man near. She was very good at it. At times she knew she had been heartless, yet at the same time she had known untold heartache because such methods had seemed the only pathway open to her.

And still she was alone.

For even though the human males did not know of her elven father, they thought her strange and different. The witch, they called Amarië behind her back, not realizing that she heard. The sorceress. Their eyes followed her, invariably with hunger and lust, but also with fear. Without knowing why, they were afraid of her, all except Ennis.

The knowledge appalled her. She did not want to be feared. The feminine side of her yearned for a strong male, a lover, one who accepted her as she was, one who would value her uniqueness. She had reached an age where her soul longed for a mate, but with the passing of each year it seemed less and less likely that she would find one, at least among the world of men. Acceptance eluded her. Love eluded her.

And so she was determined to go to Caras Galadhon to seek her kin. In dreams, she had been told of her grandfather, though she knew not of any details concerning him. All she knew was his name--Lord Celeborn. The name suggested he might have the authority to grant her leave to live with the Elves. She prayed it would be so. In her mind, Lord Celeborn had become her last and only hope. If she could not fit in with her father's kin, there was indeed no place for her to go.

"Have you considered how best we should approach them?" Ennis inquired, breaking in on her thoughts. It was a subject they could no longer avoid discussing, even if it meant an argument.

As far as Ennis was concerned, the essential piece of the plan was that the Elves must be persuaded to train the men in their fighting techniques, perhaps show them how to make more effective weapons. Then they would return to their home and pass that knowledge and training on to those who would learn them. Ennis, as well as many others, had come to believe that these dark times called for drastic measures. Too many innocents had been slaughtered by Orcs and other sinister creatures. For the most part, the people of their homeland were farmers, peaceful and peace-loving, unprepared for violence or evil, unable to fight back against the mindless hate.

Perhaps because of Amarië's skills, Ennis had become convinced that the Elves could be their deliverance. Though young, Ennis had displayed his leadership in that he had managed to convince the men who accompanied them that such a plan was feasible. After all, an immortal people must surely have a little extra time on their hands. Elves also possessed skills and knowledge that Ennis's people lacked. The least they could do, Ennis had argued, was to pass on some of that skill and knowledge to the world of men.

Only four-and-twenty men out of hundreds had been convinced enough and intrepid enough to make the journey, but it was better than nothing. Of Amarië's own plan, they knew naught.

Amarië glanced over her shoulder, making sure they could not be overheard. Worn and disheveled, the men trailed behind them in a long line as they wended their way down the steep mountain path. Ahead, flat plains stretched out before them, and far in the distance, on the very rim of the horizon, the Lothlórien Forest loomed.

"I have thought of little else," she admitted.

"Well?" Uneasiness laced Ennis's voice.

"I will approach them alone."

"Out of the question," he countered at once. "Are you mad? What if they harm you or take you captive?"

"And if we approach them as a group, they may slaughter us all. In any case, what if they do not speak the common tongue? I may have to communicate in Elvish, and I don't wish our people to know I speak it unless I have no other choice."

"You think you speak it," he said dryly. "You've never met an Elf. You've had no chance to find out. Mayhap those dreams of yours meant nothing."

"Mayhap, Ennis. But I doubt it. And if they do speak the common tongue, I can conceal my knowledge of their language. That might prove invaluable if we spend time in their midst."

Ennis was silent for a long moment. "True enough. But I still don't like it."

"I do not fear them," she said. "And do not forget they will be males. Nothing I have ever heard has led me to believe that elven females guard their borders. I can handle males. Of all things, I have the most confidence in that."

Ennis sighed. "I hope so, Amarië. For your sake as well as ours."

Amarië bit her tongue to prevent herself from responding sharply. Ennis loved her, but he always persisted in putting her into her own category, and everyone else into another. For your sake as well as for ours. He didn't mean to hurt her, she knew. Yet, something inside her hardened a little, giving her a much needed spurt of defiance and courage. Nothing would prevent her from achieving her goal—to gain access to Lord Celeborn. Certainly no mere border Elf!

Newly determined, she clenched her teeth and trudged along, ignoring the throbbing ache in her left thigh, her eyes fixed on the glitter of a distant river. The best strategy was to make use of the water to wash and tidy herself. She would free her hair from its bindings so that its full length hung to her waist. She seldom wore it so, but in this instance it would be wise. Long had she heard that the Elves admired beautiful hair above all else. And because she wore the clothing of a male, she wanted to be sure they knew she was female. She might be wrong, but she suspected it might give them enough pause to prevent them from putting an arrow into her chest before she could persuade them she was not a threat.

An hour later, she waded into the chill water, still mulling this over. All her life she had heard whispers about Elves—what they looked like, what they did and did not do. Their beauty was renowned, as was their height, their vanity, their agility and grace. It was said that an Elf could walk upon the surface of snow and could climb any tree with no effort at all. She had heard much, some of it surely lies, some of it truth. It was hard to believe that she would soon find out.

She sank into the water, knowing that Ennis guarded her privacy. As quickly as possible, she rubbed her small bar of soap into her hair and over her naked flesh, rinsed herself in the icy water, and got out. Quickly, she dressed, wishing she had clean clothes to wear. Although she had always enjoyed men's garb, she also appreciated the idea of beautiful gowns. She had never had one, however, because her family were poor and simple folk. Briefly, she wondered what elven females wore, then dismissed it from her mind as irrelevant. She had far more vital things to think about.

They were soon on their way. The sun sank slowly into the west as the Lothlórien woods drew nearer. Exhaustion weighed upon every member of their party. Amarië plodded on, feeling that if she faltered, then everyone would. Ennis looked grim.

They encamped approximately a quarter league from the edge of the Lothlórien forest. Amarië's hair was nearly dry, and while the men gathered twigs for a fire, she ran her small comb through its length, smoothing out the knots and tangles. Watching the men, she noticed that none dared go close enough to the forest to gather larger branches. This was just as well, for it should serve as an adequate excuse for her to wander nearer, giving the Elves ample opportunity to observe her closely. It would at least ensure that they knew she was female. As she did so, she would contrive to look helpless and unthreatening, though she had no intention of leaving her weapons behind.

The tiny fire the men were able to produce flickered feebly in the encroaching darkness. There was little food at this point, though a pair of rabbits had been shot earlier, and most everyone had the remnants of dried fruit and berries in their pockets. The fire was not enough to cook even one rabbit, or to provide much warmth in the growing darkness.

Amarië tucked away her comb and rose to her feet. "I will gather more wood," she said to the nearest group of men. "Remain here and do not fear for me."

They looked at her with consternation clearly writ upon their faces, but by now they had learned better than to question Amarië's actions. She could almost feel their inner shrugs. If Ennis did not object, who were they to do so? The witch would fare well enough wherever she went, she imagined them thinking.

Maintaining a calm façade, she strolled casually toward the forest. As she walked, she tried to appear as though she searched the ground for firewood, while keeping her real attention on the swaying of the mighty trees. How much was caused by the wind? Probably all of it, she thought.

She bent and pick up another branch, then walked a few steps further. Another glance into the woods revealed nothing but tree trunks and shadow. She chose yet another branch and moved even closer. Still nothing happened. And yet…and yet, her senses told her that she was indeed being watched, and by more than one set of eyes. All her life she had been the subject of scrutiny, but this sensation was wholly different and most uncomfortable. Her leg throbbed painfully as she scooped up another branch.

"Amarië! Wait!"

She spun around at the sound of Ennis's voice. He was striding toward her, interfering with her plan. Quickly, she returned to him and handed over the pile of wood.

"Take this," she hissed. "Get them started cooking those rabbits. I don't want them to pay me any heed right now."

"Must you do this now? Why not wait until morning when at least we can see them?"

"Do you think you would see them in the light? I think you are wrong."

Ennis looked indecisive. "What should we do if you do not come back?"

"Do nothing. Give me time to talk to them. I have no idea what will happen, but I do not think they will harm me."

"Not in the way you are thinking, but—"

"Not in that way either," she interrupted, rather testily. "Please, Ennis, go back."

"Very well." He sounded cross. "I'll see you anon."

She watched him walk away, wondering what ploy she could now use to get near the forest. No ideas came to mind, so instead she opted for boldness. Keeping her hands well away from the small sword she wore at her waist, she moved slowly and carefully toward the trees. Nothing happened. Step after step took her closer and closer. And then she was swathed in the shadow of the first of those great trees.

Still nothing happened. Could she be wrong? Would they do nothing to stop her from entering the wood?

She took another step, then a second and a third…and found herself surrounded.

xxx

Amarië froze, rather stunned by the number of arrows pointing directly at her from every direction. Stunning, too, was her first sight of elven males. Tall they were, and dressed in shadowy gray, with long blond hair, high-arched brows, and the pointed ears she'd always heard about. She could just make out their faces in the dark; their expressions seemed more neutral than hostile.

"You may go no further. Humans are not permitted in our land."

The haughty voice came from behind the Elves directly in front of her. Immediately, they parted, revealing another male Elf—tall, with long silvery blond hair and dark, finely arched brows. Although garbed like the others, he was an imposing figure, greater than all the other Elves both in authority and sheer physical perfection. At the moment, he seemed to be looking down his nose at her, his expression quite insolent and his cool gray eyes taking in far more of her appearance than she liked. For the first time in her memory, Amarië felt the urge to fidget under a male's regard.

Despite his command to her, the arrows still crowded close, giving Amarië no room to retreat even if she desired to do so, which she did not. "So many arrows," she protested in annoyance. "Am I truly so threatening?"

Instinctively, she tried to regain control by pushing one of the arrowheads away, but the Elf did not yield and the sharp point punctured her flesh. She snatched back her hand, trying not to gasp though she could feel the blood pooling on her palm.

The Elves showed no reaction to her movement or wound. The arrows remained in her face, at her side, and behind.

The arrogant blond Elf continued, in the common tongue, "Do not be foolish, woman. Return to your people. You have no business in these woods."

"And who are you?" she countered, lifting her chin in defiance.

"I am Haldir, Marchwarden of the Golden Wood."

The name was vaguely familiar, though she could not recall details associated with it. Indeed, it did not matter except for the fact that he might hinder her mission.

She widened her eyes and tilted her head, a feminine trick she'd used many times with great success. "Well, Haldir, I do have business in Lothlórien and have traveled a vast distance to be here. My purpose is to obtain entrance to Caras Galadhon."

His narrowed gaze assessed her, though not in quite the manner she'd hoped. "And why would you wish to go there?"

"I seek an audience with Lord Celeborn," she answered with dignity, though she did not like to tell him even that. Her reasons were far too private and delicate to be revealed to a perfect stranger.

"That cannot be. You will leave now if you value your life."

"I refuse to leave. You threaten to kill me, but I don't think you will do it." She tossed her head, aware of the seductive sway of her hair. Men found it attractive, why not Elves? "I have come so far," she added plaintively.

His eyes flicked over her, but he seemed immune to her charms, even a little amused. "What a pity," he said, and reached for her hand.

He brushed his thumb over the small, bleeding tear in her palm, then before she could blink or react, he bent and heaved her facedown over his shoulder. As she gasped with discomfort and embarrassment, he carried her out of the woods and set her down in such a way that she fell backward to the ground. Pain jolted her thigh, but it was nothing compared to the indignity.

"How dare you!" she sputtered.

"Go back to your men," he commanded. Turning, he strode back into the forest and melted into the darkness.

Speechless with outrage, Amarië leaped to her feet. For a fleeting moment, she considered returning to Ennis and the campfire, then her stubbornness reasserted itself. She would not be so easily defeated. Surely this male Elf could not be totally impervious to her! Or so unreasonable!

Abruptly, she realized that her hand had stopped hurting. She stared at her palm. The wound had closed. What had he done? It must be true that Elves had healing powers, but…it had happened so fast. Bemused, she considered the fact that he had taken the trouble to ease her pain. Surely it was a favorable sign.

Feeling more confident, she stalked back into the forest only to be greeted with the same treatment. Except this time the beautiful faces looked inquisitive and the arrows were not held quite so near.

The haughty Elf called Haldir seemed exasperated, even annoyed. "I have warned you," he said with sternness.

"So you have," she answered sweetly. "And I now realize that you did not understand." She moved toward him, ignoring the arrows, which drew back enough to allow her access to Haldir. Yet at least one arrow stayed close enough to give her pause. One sudden movement, she sensed, would be her last. They were very protective of their Marchwarden.

Slowly, ignoring their audience, she raised her hand and laid it on his chest, near his heart. "Now, Haldir," she purred, gazing soulfully into his gray eyes, "I think we could come to an agreement on this, if you would but consider. All I ask is an audience with Lord Celeborn. I think you have the power to arrange that, do you not?" She gave him her most melting look, yet she suddenly knew she was flirting with danger.

One corner of Haldir's mouth quirked. "You think to bargain with me, lirimaer?"

"It crossed my mind," she answered softly. She was definitely making progress; he had called her "lovely one" in Elvish. Her heart hammered faster as though the danger had just heightened.

His hand suddenly pressed against the back of her hair, forcing her head close to his. He said nothing, only looked down at her in an odd, appraising way.

She could have sworn he meant to kiss her. His gaze centered on her mouth for an instant, and his eyes glinted strangely, almost as though he were amused. "Much as your offer tempts me, I must decline. Humans are not allowed to enter Lothlórien, and with good reason. It is my task to be sure they do not." And in Elvish, he added, "So out you go, fair temptress."

Once again, she was unceremoniously carried out of the wood beyond the line of trees, though this time she was set down more carefully than before. As Haldir walked away, Amarië clenched her hands into fists of fury.

Where had she gone wrong? What could she do?

Once again, the Elves retreated into the gloom of the forest until no sign of them remained. Yet this time her eyes discerned a shadow here and there amongst the treetops, and her keen hearing picked out what could almost have been a ripple of elven laughter.

"I'm not leaving!" she called out to them. Clinging to her pride, she moved directly under the nearest tree and sat down, wrapping her cloak around her. She would sleep here tonight. She would show them that she was not so easy to dismiss.

Show him, that is.

No one answered her challenge. Coldness settled into her bones and the pit of her stomach. The wind moaned through the trees, rustling the leaves into a thousand whispers. Your coming here was wrong, useless, doomed to failure, the whispers seemed to say. You belong nowhere. You are a half-Elf, an aberration of nature. No one wants you. No one.

As Amarië closed her eyes and tried to sleep, she wished she could just slip quietly into some crack or fissure in the earth, and be forgotten by all.

tbc


	3. Confrontation

**Part 2 – Confrontation**

Later that same night, Haldir stood upon the talan far above Amarië's resting place, taking his turn at the watch. Orders had gone out to resume the usual patrols, so only a few Elves remained in the Marchwarden's vicinity. It did not require a large number of Elves to guard against this small and insignificant band of humans encamped in the distance, nor the one obstinate woman below. He glanced down at her through the branches, his keen eyesight able to take in the rise and fall of her chest as she slept. Her nearness disturbed him, though he did not know why.

His brothers, Rúmil and Orophin, had returned only moments before, bringing reports from all their scouts. Nothing threatened the perimeters of their land; elven sentinels kept watch on all frontiers, and for the nonce, they could relax. The two brothers stood beside Haldir for nearly a minute before they succumbed to their mischievous ways.

"My respect for Haldir has increased tenfold this night," Rúmil remarked as though Haldir were not standing next to them. "To refuse so charming an offer must have taken great strength of will."

Orophin nodded, his face mock solemn. "Our brother has ever possessed much self-restraint. It is why he is Marchwarden, and not one of us. It is also why he chose to stay here, upon this particular flet, when he so easily might have chosen another."

Haldir sighed, recognizing that he was due for a teasing. Always did these two find him to be a source of hilarity, a fact he would have found exasperating were it not for their fierce and undying loyalty.

"Indeed," Rúmil agreed, playfulness creeping into his voice, "strength of will has ever been Haldir's finest quality. I'm not sure I could have shown as much, had she turned those blue eyes on me."

"Nor I," agreed Orophin with a regretful sigh. "But 'twas he who caught the maiden's fancy. Misfortune for you and me, brother. Her beauty rivals that of Lord Elrond's daughter."

Haldir broke his silence. "You know I do not trifle with human women. They are too defenseless, too easy to deceive and wound."

For a few moments, his brothers held their tongues. Then Rúmil spoke again, this time with seriousness. "She's injured, you know."

"I know." Haldir's voice was curt. He had observed the woman's limp, well before she entered the wood.

"Has she any food?" Orophin asked.

"Not to my knowledge." Haldir's lip curled with derision. "The humans feed themselves, and bring her nothing. They are too frightened to venture any closer."

"Well, you can hardly blame them," Rúmil pointed out, "when for centuries we have been at pains to make them so. They are supposed to fear us and keep their distance."

"And yet the woman did not fear us." Orophin gazed down at her curiously.

"It would have been better for her if she had," Haldir responded. "I suppose I had better take her some lembas."

"She carries many weapons for a defenseless woman. Be sure she sleeps before you go too near."

Haldir snorted. "I think I can handle one woman, Rúmil. But feel free to accompany me if you fear for my safety."

Rúmil laughed. "Nay, I shall stay here. We have our bows, should they prove necessary."

Beneath the jesting, Haldir heard Rúmil 's meaning. They would kill the woman without hesitation did they believe him in any genuine peril. 

"That will not be necessary," he told them firmly.

Haldir's brothers watched him move with effortless grace down the branches of the great tree to the forest floor far below.

"His code of honor interferes with his pleasure," Orophin commented.

"At least in this case," Rúmil agreed. "But you have to admire him."

"Of course. There is no one I admire more." Orophin crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze on Haldir as he bent over the sleeping woman. "But something tells me this female is going to test him in a way he has not yet been tested. No woman that beautiful is entirely defenseless."

"Agreed. Perhaps a wager, brother?"

Orophin grinned. "A wager would be most welcome."

xxx

Haldir set the leaf-wrapped lembas near the woman's hand, then turned his attention to her injured left leg. Softly, he murmured a few words, a gentle spell to be sure she did not wake. Then he held his hand a small distance above her leg, searching for the disruption in her life force that would betray the site of injury. He found it within seconds, radiating from her thigh in palpable waves. It felt like a surface wound left improperly tended, most likely inflamed. The proper herbs would heal it easily, but in the meantime, an elvish spell could soothe her pain and reduce the swelling. He murmured the ancient words of healing, his palm resting lightly upon the region of the wound.

When done, he rose to his feet, looking down at her for a long moment. He had lived long enough to know better than to allow himself to be manipulated by the methods she'd employed. He was an elf, not a man. And yet she was an alluring wench, more alluring than he liked to admit. Beautiful, yes, but that was not what drew him. What was it then? Her boldness, her audacity, her stubbornness, her desperation . . . now where did that come from? What was it she searched for so desperately? For what reason did she seek Lord Celeborn?

His attention shifted to the small arsenal she carried. As Rúmil had pointed out, she was certainly well armed. In addition to bow and quiver and sword, she possessed two knives that he could see, one strapped to her right thigh, the other to her left calf. He wondered if there were more weapons beneath her cloak and whether she knew how to use them. He suspected she did. His eyes shifted to her delicate, extremely feminine features. What name had the man used when he'd called out to her? Amarië, that was it.

Well, he had a strong feeling Amarië was going to be a thorn in his flesh for some time to come, and his instincts were almost never wrong. For now, however, there was no more to be done. Turning, he went to rejoin his brothers and to take for himself some well-earned rest.

xxx

Celeborn would have to be told. Galadriel turned from her mirror, her face more impassive than her troubled thoughts. With her customary grace, she remounted the steps that led to her bower, the smooth stones pleasant and familiar beneath her bared feet.

As she had known he would be, Celeborn was waiting for her, his wise eyes filled with inquiry and perhaps some foreknowledge of what she had to say.

"You have a granddaughter," she said, watching him closely.

"Long have we known that my son spread his seed widely before he went to the Halls of Mandos. Yet I did not think he would be so careless among the humans."

"The human woman is dead. Her daughter lives. Haldir detains her at the border, as is his duty and his right."

"I have felt it," he acknowledged, "and now it is confirmed. What else did you see?"

"She lives in torment. She knows not what she is, being half elf, half human. She has had no teachers, save one, and that one only in dreams. She comes to Lothlórien for a twin purpose, in part for herself and in part for others. Yet she will sacrifice herself if need be, for she does not understand her own purpose or what it is she seeks."

"I will send for her." Celeborn rose to his feet.

"Not yet." Galadriel lifted a hand to stay him. "I have seen more. A golden thread links her to our Marchwarden. You know what that means. Right now they spar and feint with each other, but for the welfare of each, it is important that they finish what they start. You know why."

Celeborn regarded her solemnly. "This was planned. Yet I fear he will hurt my granddaughter more than she has already been hurt."

"She may need to be hurt before she can be healed. Now that she has found him, that process will begin."

Celeborn reached for her hand. "As always, my love, you are wise."

"I have to be." Galadriel smiled sadly.

xxx

Amarië stirred as the first birds of dawn began to sing. She rubbed her eyes, amazed that she had slept through the night propped against a tree. Every muscle in her body ached from sitting in one position for so long. Pushing back her hair, she looked around, her mind flooded with the memory of the infuriatingly arrogant elf. Shadow take him! What was she to tell Ennis? He would be expecting her to have made contact by now, and to have secured entry into Lothlórien for them all.

Looking around, she suddenly noticed a curious object near her hand. She picked it up and examined it. It looked like some sort of bread. Elven bread, it must be. Someone had been here while she slept, and the knowledge disconcerted her. Why had she not awakened? If he had left it, she would not eat it, she decided unreasonably. She did not want his pity or his charity. Yet her stomach ached and growled with the need for sustenance. She had lost both weight and strength these past six weeks, and though the weight did not matter, the strength did.

Suddenly, she recalled a story she had heard about elven waybread. One small bite was supposed to be enough to fill the belly of a grown man. Well, that had better be true, because right now she needed to fill the bellies of five-and-twenty hungry men. Those two rabbits would have done little to alleviate their hunger.

Reaching for her bow, she levered herself to her feet and then stood stock still in amazement. For the first time in two weeks, her thigh did not ache. The difference was so striking that she was dumbfounded—until the obvious explanation came to her. 'Twas clearly the result of an elven spell, just like the healing spell he had cast upon her palm.

Why had he done it? she wondered, torn between gratitude and vexation. Of course it was wonderful to feel better, but it galled her to think that he had so easily seen her weakness. Even Ennis had not noticed her limp. But evidently Haldir—or someone—had.

Always she kept up her barriers, her walls. She liked to think of herself as an impenetrable fortress, needing no one's help—except Lord Celeborn's, of course. Yet it seemed that Haldir had seen far more than she desired. Perhaps elven males were more dissimilar from human men than she had anticipated, she reflected uneasily. Be that as it may, today she would have to find a way to reason with Haldir.

She tucked the bread into her pocket and headed across the grassy fields toward Ennis and the rest of her party. As she drew near, she observed that the huddled groups of men were clearly discontented and suspicious, judging from their surly expressions as they watched her approach.

"What happened?" were Ennis's first words. He looked anxious, but not wholly on her account. Clearly, the men were being difficult. "Are the Elves going to do as we want?"

"I'm not certain," she answered cautiously. Keeping her voice low, she added, "I have spoken to them, but they . . . need more time to consider."

"More time?" Ennis shoved a hand through his hair. "We don't have more time. These men are exhausted and impatient and hungry. Without you, I fear I may not be able to control them."

"You must," she said. She withdrew the elven bread from her pocket. "Here, the Marchwarden has sent this as a gesture of goodwill. Divide it amongst the lot of you. It will fill their bellies for now, at least. Then send them hunting for game, but in groups. I will be back as soon as I can."

She turned to walk away, but was halted by his hand on her arm. "Amarië? You are not harmed?"

"No, of course not."

"They did not . . . do anything to you?" His blue eyes revealed real concern.

"No, but if they had, would it matter?" she answered brutally. "I am no dewy-eyed virgin, you know. I will do whatever is necessary to accomplish our purpose."

"But not that," Ennis persisted. "You are my sister, and I have sworn to protect you and your honor. If one of those Elves touches you without your consent— "

"I will let you know," she said, more gently. "But so far, 'tis the opposite. I fear I do not appeal much to our Elven friends."

"How can that be?" Ennis looked shocked.

Amarië shrugged. "How can I know? Look, forget all this. Just feed them and send them hunting. I will do my best to make arrangements."

With these words, she retraced her steps and returned to the Lothlórien forest. Slowly, a plan began to form in her mind, but it depended on Haldir taking pity on her, and she hated the idea. But the fact that he had left the bread—and cast a healing spell—showed that he had a streak of decency. If she could exploit that, use it against him . . . She loathed the thought, yet what else could she do? If she could not reason with him, she must do whatever was necessary to achieve her ends.

He blocked her path before she had gone more than a few steps into the forest. "You've returned," he said, his gray eyes unfathomable. "Why do you not heed my warning?" Not a promising start, but at least there were no arrows in her face and he did not carry weapons.

She tilted her head to look up at him, making no attempt to flirt. "Yes. I told you I wasn't leaving." She glanced around. "Where are your bodyguards?"

"Don't be deceived. They are watching."

"I see. Well, I came to thank you for whatever you did to help my leg. And for the bread. I gave it to the men. It will hold them for the day."

"Are you saying you did not eat?"

"I will not eat or drink until I am granted an audience with Lord Celeborn."

He frowned, clearly taken aback. "Surely you jest."

"I am quite serious. I hope you will change your mind because I would prefer not to die, especially in so unpleasant a way."

He reached out, his fingers clamping hard around her upper arm. "You must be mad," he said, giving her a small shake. "I will not allow it."

"You have no choice, Marchwarden," she told him in a hard voice. "Your only choice is this—yield to my request or watch me die. Or will you leave the watching to your minions?" Now that the challenge had actually left her lips, she knew she might actually have to follow through on her threat. Eru help her!

He released her arm, uttering a sharp Elvish phrase she did not recognize, but from his tone she knew it was an expletive.

"Why do you wish to speak to the Lord of Lórien?" he demanded. "Tell me your reasons and if I find them sound, I will consider your petition."

"My reasons are confidential. I will reveal them only to the Lord Celeborn."

His jaw hardened with obvious anger. "You are a foolish and stubborn woman. Have you no respect for the laws of our land? Or for my position as Marchwarden?"

"I respect both," she answered. "But my mission here is vital. The lives of our people may depend on . . . " She faltered, unwilling to reveal too much.

She could not risk telling him the truth. If Lord Celeborn were indeed her grandfather, and proved willing to acknowledge the blood tie, she would have a strong chance of securing elven aid. Lord Celeborn could order the Elves to train her men in weapons skills, even overrule any objections Haldir might present. And she had a feeling the Marchwarden would object.

On the other hand, if Lord Celeborn was not her grandfather, or if he refused to acknowledge the relationship, she did not want Haldir to know that she had made the claim. It would be devastating and mortifying enough without him knowing. It was bad enough that Ennis would have to be told.

"On what?" Haldir shot back.

Before she could form a reply, an elvish cry sounded from high above. "Haldir! To arms! Orcs approach from the east!"

Haldir was gone before she could blink, disappearing into the tree above as the call to arms resounded through the forest. Amarië had no time to wonder what the Elves would do, whether they would go on the offensive or simply defend their land from the safety of the trees. Spinning around, she raced out of the woods toward the encampment, thankful that she could run once again without pain. Only a few men remained by the smoldering campfire, the rest had only gone a short distance in their search for game, praise Eru. She could see that they were already drawing their swords, but the ones by the campfire, including Ennis, were unaware.

"Orcs! " she yelled. "Ready yourselves!"

Already she had her bow in hand and an arrow in place. They all saw the Orcs now, at least two score of them, and Amarië could hear their pounding footsteps as they trampled over grass and boulders directly toward the men. Silently, she cursed herself. She ought to have realized that the wind had shifted, carrying the scent of man-flesh over the far-reaching plains.

They were coming fast. She loosed three arrows in rapid succession, piercing the two closest Orcs through the neck, but missing the third entirely. She saw Ennis bearing down on that one, his sword in his hand, but had no time to watch the outcome as there were two more headed her way, roaring their dreadful fury as they bore down on her. She fired off another arrow, killing the one on the right, but the other was closing in. Cries of rage and anguish resonated all around her, but she ignored it, focusing her concentration where it was needed.

As swiftly as she could, she launched another arrow, but it bounced off the creature's armor. She reached for her sword just in time to deflect the first crushing blow, but he was far stronger than she was and it took all her strength to block the stroke. She staggered, then recovered her balance, thrusting her sword up to impale him beneath the arm where the armor was weak. His filthy eyes glowed red as he raised his bloodied arm once more to smite her down. Snarling, she brought up her sword to check him, not even knowing if she could, but the blow never came. He dropped dead at her feet, an elven arrow straight through his ugly mouth.

In the next instant, Haldir was at her side. "Go to the woods!" he ordered tersely. "Run quickly!"

"No!" she shouted back. She returned her sword to her belt and slid another arrow into the nock. "I can fight!"

Another elven curse left his lips as he turned his attention to a group of Orcs running at them. Without any visible effort, he fired arrows into each of them with a speed and accuracy that left her breathless, but her own arrow found its mark in the last. It was then she realized that nearly a score of Elves had come out of the wood hard on Haldir's heels. A volley of elven arrows flew through the air and unerringly found their marks. Within seconds, every Orc was slain.

Breathing hard, Amarië looked around for Ennis. He lay on the ground, blood spattered all over him, but to her relief, he pushed himself up into a sitting position just as she reached his side.

"Ennis!" Suppressing a sob, she searched to see if the blood was his or another's.

"I am unharmed," he muttered. "I would have been dead except for . . . " He stopped and looked around, taking in the elven warriors standing some slight distance away, aloof and ethereal, their golden hair undulating in the stiff morning breeze. "Except for them," he finished, gaping in wonder at his first sight of Lothlórien Elves.

She tried to help him stand, but he shook her off with impatience. "Don't treat me like a child, Amarië. See to our men."

Knowing he was right, she stepped away, glancing at Haldir as she did so. He was already bending over a mortally wounded man, murmuring quiet elven phrases as he closed the dead, staring eyes.

xxx  
Four men had died that morning, and three others badly wounded. Much to Amarië's surprise, the Elves had carried the wounded to the edge of the forest and tended them with a compassion she had not expected. The remaining men, however, were not invited to enter the woods, and that did not bode well. However, the elven rescue had impressed the men and for the present they kept their peace.

Only Amarië was allowed to pass the edge of the wood. By this time she had met Haldir's brothers, Rúmil and Orophin, but she could not converse with them because they knew not the common tongue and she still clung to the pretense that she did not speak Elvish. They looked her up and down rather speculatively, however, and seemed satisfied enough with what they saw that they did not object to her presence.

Amarië was aware that her strength had ebbed from lack of food and thirst, and from tension and fatigue. It was becoming harder and harder to separate the two tongues—elven and common—and to remember who said what to whom, and what she was supposed to understand and what she was not.

Finding herself ignored at one point, Amarië sank to the ground and leaned against a tree. She felt nauseated and dizzy, and her side vision had dwindled. She shook her head, trying to clear it of the mist, yet the dreadful feeling persisted. What was wrong with her? She glanced around, hoping no one saw her weakness, but that was too much to expect.

Haldir was coming toward her, wearing a frown. She forced herself to her feet, prepared to exchange words with him, but when he reached her side, his face started to blur. Pinpoints of light swirled, blocking out her view of him, but she felt his hands gripping her, lifting her, carrying her . . . somewhere . . . 

xxx

She heard their voices before she opened her eyes. The words were Elvish, yet her brain absorbed them as easily as if they'd been spoken in the common tongue.

"She uses a bow with a skill I've not seen in a human." It sounded like Rúmil.

"I noticed." This was Haldir.

"What are your plans? Will you take her to Caras Galadhon? The Lord and Lady may be interested in her." Was this Orophin?

"I may have to. Else she will starve herself to death in protest, the little fool."

"She threatened that?" A masculine laugh. "And you believed her?"

"From anyone else, no. From this one, yes. I have never met a female, elven or human, more stubborn. I do believe her mind is addled."

"I thought you said you could handle this one defenseless woman."

Amarië felt someone hold a cup to her lips, and a few drops of water entered her parched mouth. "Drink, _astalder_," Haldir murmured. "Drink and return to us."

_Astalder_. Brave one.

She opened her eyes, focusing on Haldir's face. No longer did he look angry, and it had a curious effect on her. For the first time, she truly absorbed how handsome he was, how his individual features were perhaps not perfect, but the sum total so fascinating she could hardly look away.

This was not a safe thought.

She struggled to sit up, pushing away the cup. "Where am I?" she asked, looking around in bemusement.

"You are in the trees," he answered, "upon an Elven flet."

She pushed her hair away from her face. It still hung unbound, and by now had doubtless become a mass of snarls. "The wounded men? Are they—?"

"One has passed into the hall of his forefathers. The other two will survive."

She sighed deeply, her sorrow great. "Will you please take me to Lord Celeborn before more of our men die?"

Haldir sat back, his eyes boring into hers. "I shall send a message to see if he is willing to see you. That is all I can promise."

"Thank you." She turned her gaze to the cup of water. "And now may I please have a drink?"

"And some food," he suggested in a dry tone.

She kept her eyes downcast to hide her triumph. "And some food," she agreed.

xxx

"Your granddaughter demonstrates great strength of purpose," Galadriel remarked as she gazed into her mirror.

Celeborn stood at her side, seeing his own visions in the water. "I would expect nothing less of one of my blood."

"Yet do not forget there is much evil in this world. Her missions are noble, but they are by no means assured of success."

"My son teaches her from beyond the grave."

"There is only so much he can do from that vantage. She needs other teachers. We must be sure she has them."

"I am pleased with my son. Perhaps one day he will be allowed to return to us."

Galadriel inclined her head. "Indeed. Perhaps he will have learned the wisdom he lacked before. Meanwhile, your granddaughter is a gift to us. And to Haldir."

"She will ask much of us. And of him."

Galadriel laid her hand on his arm as they turned away from the mirror. "That is her destiny, my dear."

tbc


	4. Arrival

**Part 3 – Arrival**

As soon as Amarië felt sufficiently recovered, she moved to the edge of the flet and peered down. Below, she could see the two injured men being attended by a pair of elves. Both men appeared to be asleep; the body of the one who had died had been removed. Rúmil and Orophin had departed, leaving her alone with Haldir. She could feel the Marchwarden's presence behind her; he had moved nearer, perhaps thinking she would tumble over the edge.

"Do you wish to descend?" he asked her in a neutral tone. "You may stay here and rest, if you like. A message has been sent to the Lord and Lady. The Orcs are being burned, as you can doubtless smell. Your dead have yet to be buried."

"I should go down. It is my duty."

"Tell me, why does a woman lead this group of men?"

"Why not?" She lifted her chin. "Is it so difficult to believe?"

"Do you have special powers? Or is it only that they think you do?" he added shrewdly.

"Perhaps they admire my prowess with a bow," she replied with flippancy.

"And well they should. A more unimpressive lot of fighters I've yet to see. It's a wonder they weren't all slain, and you with them."

The disdain in his voice came through clearly, irritating her. "They were not trained to be fighters! These men are farmers and smiths, not warriors. They have done as well as they were able."

He probed her with a look as hard as mithril. "Then why do you travel with them? What in the name of Elbereth are they doing here?"

Unnerved, she looked away. "That is information I will only reveal to Lord Celeborn. Right now I must see to the men, and speak to my brother."

She heard him sigh, and knew that he also was annoyed. "I had better carry you down. You are still weak."

"I am not weak," she corrected through gritted teeth. "Perhaps the she-elves that you know would be so, but—"

"The she-elves that I know are not children," he cut in, "therefore they do not behave as such."

Rounding on him, she itched to slap his arrogant face, but did not quite dare. After all, she still needed his help. "You seem to be forming the bad habit of transporting me about," she said instead. "I would not want you to get used to it."

"You are not heavy," he replied, as though that were the issue. His careful gaze encompassed all of her. "You do not eat enough."

"I'm sorry you do not find me pleasing." She meant to be sarcastic, but instead the words came out sounding stiff and huffy. She turned away in embarrassment.

"I did not say that, Amarië. You twist my words."

She forced herself to glance up at him. "You seem to delight in causing me discomfort."

"Discomfort?" His dark brows arched. "Did I not heal you?"

"You know that is not what I meant." She cleared her throat and gazed down through the leaves toward the men huddled in the distance. Her eyes picked out Ennis, for he had just risen to his feet and was marching toward the forest with swift and purposeful steps. "I must go down now. My brother wishes to speak to me."

"And to assure himself that we have not caused you harm," Haldir added with irony. "That one does not like our kind."

"No, he does not." She turned toward the opening in the center of the flet. "I assume this is the way?" she added dryly.

He made a slight, mocking bow. "But I will go first."

"I will try not to fall on you."

A gleam of humor entered his eyes. "I will catch you if you do."

xxx

A pair of elves had halted Ennis at the edge of the wood, politely yet firmly barring him from going any further. Amarië could hear his heated protests before she even set foot upon the soft forest floor, and although she doubted they could understand his words, his meaning was certainly clear enough. 

Cringing inwardly at his conduct, she walked over to him, trying to convey with her frown that he should leave off his complaints. To her dismay, Haldir followed her. It seemed he intended to hear what Ennis had to say.

Ennis looked muddy, dismal and drained. "Where have you been?" he demanded. "I've been worried."

"You need not have been. I am quite well."

He glared at her. "You did not answer my question, Amarië." His gaze moved past her, his eyes chilly as they settled on the Marchwarden. "I thank you for your rescue, Elf, but I must warn you, my sister is not to be trifled with."

"Trifled with?" Haldir's voice could have frozen water. "And when do you imagine I might have time for such things? My rangers and I have been occupied with saving your hides and caring for your wounded."

Ennis had the grace to blush. "Aye, I know it. And I am grateful. But I still want you to know—"

"Ennis!" Amarië said sharply, "for pity's sake, leave off!"

Being several years older, she had long been in the habit of speaking thusly to him, and he was used to it. However, this time he cast her an angry look that spoke volumes. "I would like to attend our wounded," he said harshly. "Might that be allowed?"

The Marchwarden stepped aside and swept out a hand. "Enter," he said haughtily. "See for yourself that they are well tended."

With a brooding look, Ennis stomped past, heading the short distance to where the two men lay on spongy moss and fallen mellyrn leaves, their heads cushioned by gray elven cloaks. One had been sliced open from his collarbone to his hipbone; the other had a broken arm and had been stabbed in the shoulder. Both were covered with blood, but their faces and hands had been washed clean.

Amarië shoved her hair from her face. "Ennis is young and hot-headed, but also valiant and good. Please don't be offended."

"You need not apologize," Haldir replied. "You are not responsible for his behavior. Only for your own."

She did not know how to take that, but before she could analyze his meaning, Ennis spun around and hurried back to stand before Haldir, his fists on his hips. "They've cast some kind of spell on them! How else could they sleep as they do?"

"And exactly what is your objection?" the Marchwarden asked sardonically. "That we have made them comfortable? That they do not feel suffering? Or that they heal while they sleep?"

"I object to the use of magic. I do not trust it." Or you, the words implied.

Haldir looked down his nose at Ennis. "Remember that when you are wounded and an Elf is near. You might change your views."

"And remember who it is you speak to," Amarië urged in a meaningful tone. "Remember our purpose, Ennis."

She felt Haldir's eyes on her face, but she avoided looking at him for fear that he would see too much.

Ennis thrust out his jaw in an aggressive manner. "I hold you responsible for their well-being, Elf. And for my sister's well-being also. Meanwhile, I will see to the burying of our dead."

"I will send elves to assist you," Haldir said in a level tone. "We elves respect the dead, even if they are not our own. Later, a lament will be sung to honor them."

Ennis stared at Haldir in seeming uncertainty, then nodded curtly in acceptance. Turning, he stalked back in the direction of the encampment, the set of his shoulders betraying to Amarië his confusion and weariness.

xxx

"Trouble?" Rúmil asked quietly, appearing at Haldir's elbow as soon as Amarië left to sit beside the two wounded men.

"Bravado and bluster," Haldir scoffed. "The young cockerel is her brother."

"At least he's not her husband."

Rúmil watched Amarië take out her comb and pull it through her tangled hair. She really was a comely lass, he reflected, and though she was a human, she had a quality that made him think she might be worthy of Haldir's notice. Haldir could certainly use a little pleasure; he had been far too sober lately. Besides, there was a little matter of a wager.

Almost as though he read his thoughts, Haldir cast him a look that should have silenced him, but of course it did not. Rúmil 's thoughts had flown on to Ennis.

"Men!" Rúmil continued, shaking his head. "No wonder we elves avoid them. They're so uncivilized. And unsubtle."

"There are a few that transcend their species."

"Perhaps the occasional woman," Rúmil conceded with a nudge.

Haldir turned to look at him, his lips finally relaxing into a smile. "It is not only men who are unsubtle, brother. I have no intention of seducing her, much as I would like to. I suppose you and Orophin have made some kind of wager? Ah, so I thought."

Rúmil tried to look innocent. "In any case, I came to tell you that word has come in. Lord Celeborn has agreed to see her. Not only that, he wishes you to act as her personal escort. Orophin and I are bidden to remain here and oversee the men's safety."

"I see." Haldir appeared to find this of note. "I wonder why?"

"Well, you certainly got the better part of the bargain. I don't see why you shouldn't seduce her—if she is willing, that is. Females seem to find you irresistible, though I personally don't share their views."

"Thank the Valar for that," Haldir replied with a hearty laugh.

xxx

Amarië heard Haldir's laugh and wondered what he found so humorous. She studied him covertly, loath to admit even to herself how intriguing she found him. His laughter was deep and rich, soothing and agreeable to the ear. At the moment, he was turned so that she saw him in profile, his expression more benign than she had ever seen it. He was certainly pleasing to look upon from any angle. More solidly built than either of his brothers, he seemed a compelling figure, muscular and able in battle, yet also lithe and elegant. And virile. An involuntary shiver ran down her spine. Too much time spent in the Marchwarden's company could prove very dangerous to whatever peace of mind she still retained.

Perhaps 'twas just as well they found each other so annoying.

She glanced down at the wounded man at her side, seeing the serene look upon his face despite his dreadful injury. How could Ennis not see this as a blessing? What would it be like to be able to cast spells, to unburden another living creature of such ghastly suffering? Would a half-Elf be able to learn such things?

Quickly, she stifled the thought before it went too far. She had had enough disappointments in her life without creating the potential for a new one. She sighed and rubbed a hand over her face, fixing her gaze upon the golden leaves of the mellyrn trees mixed in with the more familiar birches and oaks. Emotion tugged at her heart. She felt that old familiar yearning for a sense of belonging, but this was not the time to dwell on it.

Suddenly, she grew aware that Haldir was approaching. "Come, Amarië," he said, holding out his hand. "We must be on our way. We have a long walk ahead of us."

She hesitated, trying to read his expression, but it told her nothing. Not wishing to rekindle his annoyance with her, she accepted his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. "Where are we going?" she asked, not daring to hope.

"Where do you think?" He arched a brow, and she realized that he was gently teasing her. "You wanted your audience with the Lord of Lórien. Apparently, you are to have it, and I am your escort. The rest of your group will remain here under the protection of my rangers . . . if you feel well enough to make the journey, that is."

She closed her eyes, relief washing over her. Praise Eru that for once things were going as she had wished and prayed. "Of course I feel well enough," she said, before a new thought struck. "What of my brother?"

"Do you need his permission?" Haldir's voice was dry.

"Of course not! I do as I wish at all times. It is the only way to live."

"No," he said quietly, "it is not." He turned from her then, and she realized how young and stupid they all must seem to the elves, who had lived so long.

"Even so, I should go and tell him. He will be anxious otherwise." She did not understand why she bothered to clarify; she owed Haldir no explanation.

He nodded. "Go then. I will wait."

She walked swiftly away from him, feeling his gaze on her back.

When told, Ennis did not argue with her, but rather expressed his own relief that their plans were finally moving forward. Yet she still felt guilty of deception, for she did not mention that Haldir would be her only guide. There seemed no point in stirring up her brother's antagonism toward the Marchwarden, especially since it was unfounded and foolish. She did not need a protector, certainly not from the Marchwarden. She could protect herself, just as she always had. Ennis was simply trying to compensate for other times, when he had been unable to prevent men from leering at her, and worse. He did not yet understand that the elves had a more refined and civilized code of behavior.

It was only men of whom she must beware.

xxx

An hour into their journey, and they had not yet conversed. Haldir eyed the girl, wondering what thoughts dwelled in her head that she could not express. Her face was set in a mask, her steps firm, and her eyes focused on faraway matters. As a matter of course, he kept his own thoughts veiled.

Unfortunately, since Rúmil had made his playful suggestions, it had become more difficult for Haldir to remain quite as detached as he'd intended. Something about this woman made indifference impossible. Yet even though she drew him, he sought to pull away. She was human. He was an Elf. And though there were indeed some elves who did not let such matters influence them, he had never been one of them. Long had he heard it advised that the two species should not intermingle their blood. He had always heeded that warning, and he did not intend to change his practices now.

Still, he could not deny that she was lovely. He studied the curve of her cheek and her pretty little ears. Never before had he found human ears especially attractive, so why now? He acknowledged to himself that this was a foolish line of thought, but he allowed it for a moment because it was becoming too hard to resist.

And what of the rest of her? She was thin from lack of food, but her womanly figure was evident and pleasing to the eye. She was tall for a woman, though not as tall as he was. And her hair—it was thick and exquisite, its color an unusual mingling of brown and red, glinting like autumn leaves when it caught the rays of sun. He longed to touch it, to drag it through his fingers and crush it against his mouth. Crush her against his mouth. Again, a dangerous and potentially frustrating path of reflection since he did not intend to go that route.

But none of this truly explained what drew him, and that was what puzzled him most of all. Once again, it came back to her courage, her essence. Silently, he cursed himself. What did he know of her essence? Nothing. And yet, he felt as though he did, and that was what was oddest of all.

At midday they stopped to rest and eat. Haldir produced some more lembas, handing a chunk to Amarië, then taking some for himself.

Weary of silence, he swallowed the bread and asked, "Is there anything you can tell me?"

"About what?"

"About your reasons for coming to Lothlórien."

"Oh." She looked down at her fingers. "No. Not yet."

He was tempted to move closer, but resisted the impulse. Curse Rúmil for putting ideas into his head! He was very conscious of their isolation, and of her nearness and femininity. So easily could he reach out and draw her to him, pull her onto his lap and take her lips the way he wished. Other sensual images ran through his head before he could stop them.

Reining in these thoughts, he leaned against the tree and studied her. "Perhaps you may find it easier to speak later on."

"Yes." She plucked at a fallen leaf, tearing it into tiny shreds. He wondered whether he made her nervous, or whether she felt the same tension that he did.

"At least you should be able to tell me how it is that you acquired such proficiency with a bow."

"Practice," she answered, her chin lifting in the rebellious manner he was beginning to find both charming and amusing. "Many, many hours. And you? "

"Years," he said, watching her. "Centuries."

"Yes, of course." She bit her lip, drawing his attention to its fullness. "You know, I was hoping . . ."

"What?" he prompted.

"Hoping you would help me gain knowledge of why I sometimes shoot so poorly. Usually my aim is accurate and my concentration focused. And then at other times I miss quite badly, even though I am concentrating just as hard. This morning it almost cost me my life."

"I cannot say, Amarië, since I had no time to watch your technique. I am willing to take you to a practice area later and observe you." He paused, still considering her question. "Perhaps you allow self-doubt to enter your mind."

Her lashes lowered to conceal her eyes. "How can I not doubt myself?"

He did not know the answer to the question and said so, wondering once more what it was that she so desperately sought. But she would tell him nothing, and perhaps it was just as well, for whatever it was, he did not think he could give it to her.

Instead, he rose to his feet. "Come, let us continue. Lord Celeborn awaits."

xxx

Amarië's first sight of Caras Galadhon almost stole her breath away. They paused at the top of a hill as Haldir proudly pointed it out, saying, "Here it is, Amarië. Caras Galadhon, home of Lord Celeborn, and of Galadriel, Lady of Light." She glanced at him and saw the pride and pleasure in his face as he spoke. To him, this was the heart of Elvendom, his home, and clearly a familiar and beloved place.

To her, this exotic elven city represented the hopes around which she had centered her dreams for so long. They continued walking, and as they grew nearer, she took in the magnificence of the enormous golden mellyrn trees in which the walkways and elven structures resided, winding around the great trunks and lacey branches as though they had grown straight out of the trees themselves. Hundreds of twinkling lights, like stars or glimmering diamonds, illuminated the city, giving it a magical, mystical appearance that seared straight into her soul.

For some reason the sheer size of the place increased Amarië's nervousness. All at once, she felt like a charlatan. Of course Lord Celeborn would deny her heritage. He would tell her to leave, to go back to the humans at the edge of their land, and to take them away with her. It would all be over in a matter of moments—all her hopes, all her dreams, crashing into the dust. Her stomach cramped with apprehension even while she struggled to keep her face composed.

The Marchwarden led her up many flights of stairs, so many that her legs ached from climbing before they reached their destination. At last they came to an arched doorway that led into a room set near the very crown of the city.

"Be strong," Haldir said, looking at her intently. He touched her arm, his warmth reaching her through the sleeve of her shirt. "Enter now, and make your bow."

Then he left her there alone.

Amarië took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and walked into the room. The sight that met her eyes caused her to come to an immediate standstill. Two luminous beings, one male and one female, sat in carven chairs, their enigmatic gazes directed straight at her. While she stood, awestruck and gaping, they rose slowly to their feet, their faces set in kindly expressions, their statuesque figures garbed in robes of white studded with some substance that reflected light, or perhaps held the light within.

"Amarië." The male Elf spoke, reminding her belatedly to give a small bow.

Amarië nodded, her heart beating like the wings of a fleeing bird.

"Come here, child." He held out a hand. "I am Celeborn. It is I you have come to see."

Very conscious of her unkempt appearance, Amarië moved forward with hesitation, her gaze drawn to his handsome face as if mesmerized. Like all the other elves, he had long blonde hair, yet in all other ways he was greater—greater than Haldir, greater than anyone still among the living except, she sensed, Galadriel herself. Celeborn was both young and ancient, benevolent and formidable. Could he possibly be her grandfather? Even were it so, she knew at that moment that she could never speak of it. It seemed the most outrageous assertion that anyone could make, a sacrilege of the highest order.

"You are even lovelier than I foresaw." Celeborn's voice was deep.

Amarië swallowed. "You foresaw my coming?"

"We both did, " said the female Elf. She was radiant, her blue eyes filled with the wisdom of the ages, her hair a cascade of silver blonde waves reaching to her waist. "I am Galadriel. Be not afraid."

We will not renounce you, little half-Elf. The gentle words resounded inside Amarië's head as clearly as if Galadriel had spoken them aloud.

Deeply shaken, Amarië glanced from one to the other of them. "I…I should not have come," she said, taking a small step backward. "I was wrong. Forgive me…"

Galadriel came forward and reached out a hand to touch Amarië's cheek. "There is nothing to forgive, child. Do not fly away from us when you have only just arrived. Not when you have come so far and suffered so much danger."

"We know why you have come," Celeborn added, almost tenderly.

"You do?"

Celeborn nodded slowly. "You seek yourself."

"How . . . how do you know?" Amarië shook her head in bewilderment. "I don't understand."

"It is not important that you understand," Galadriel told her. "What is important is that you do not flee from the very knowledge that you seek. For now, you will stay here with us and allow us to help you heal. Answers will come in time. Answers come when the seeker is ready."

_"Cormamin lindua ele lle,_ Amarië."

Amarië's gaze jerked back to Celeborn. "What?" she whispered in a faint voice.

"That is his greeting to you, is it not?" Celeborn asked. "Your father's welcome when he meets you in your dreams?"

"How can you know this?" Tears welled in her eyes; her knees felt as though they would crumple at any moment. "How can you know about my father, my lord? Who is my father?"

Celeborn's gaze locked with hers. "Your father was an Elf, Amarië. He was my son. And you, my dear, are my granddaughter."

Amarië's entire body started to shake. "So it is true . . ."

"It is true, child. As it is true that my son is your Teacher and Guide."

"My Teacher," she echoed through numbed lips.

"He has taught you many things, some you may not even recall until the time comes when you will need the knowledge."

Galadriel took hold of her hand and gazed deeply into her eyes. "Your father taught you how to speak our language."

Out of habit, Amarië opened her mouth to deny knowledge of their tongue, and then stopped as the realization hit her in a blinding flash. She could not possibly make such a denial because, since the moment she had walked into the room, the entire conversation had been conducted in the Elvish tongue.

tbc


	5. Lessons

**Part 4 – Lessons**

Amarië lay back in the warm water of her bath, basking in the rare and luxurious comfort of having an actual soak in an actual tub in the privacy of the indoors. A lovely Elven female named Lornarië had led her away from Celeborn and Galadriel's chamber to another chamber on a lower level, telling her that it was to be Amarië's as long as she wished to stay. Her hair, still clean from recent washing, lay coiled on the top of her head, bound in place by a circlet of Lórien leaves cast in silver.

The water had been waiting and ready when they arrived. Lornarië helped Amarië to undress, surveying her male clothing and weapons with undisguised curiosity. Although Lornarië had not asked intrusive questions concerning Amarië's reasons for being in Lórien, she seemed ready enough to quiz her on other matters.

"Do all human females wear such garb?" she asked, staring first at the attire, then at her weapons, and finally at Amarië's ears. "It seems most strange to me."

She spoke in the common tongue, and Amarië did not correct her. For whatever reason, Celeborn and Galadriel had ceased speaking Elvish the moment Lornarië had arrived. It worried Amarië, for it suggested that they knew very well about her deception with Haldir and the other elves. Why they elected to allow the deception to persist she could not fathom, but since they had, the deception would continue, at least for now. It was always possible she would hear something she was not meant to hear, but that might prove well worth knowing. Perhaps her mother's dying words still pressed against her heart, cautioning against putting her full trust in the elves.

"No," she answered. "But when you travel the distance I did, it is more practical as well as wise."

Lornarië raised a brow. "Wise? In what way?"

"It is safer for a woman not to appear to be a woman when she travels through strange lands. It also makes it easier to wield weapons."

"I see," said Lornarië, though she clearly did not. "But these clothes are dirty, and must be cleaned and repaired. We planned to give you gowns to wear. Is that acceptable?" Her polite inquiry amused Amarië, for it was obvious she must wear something.

"I would appreciate that. Tell me, do many elves speak the common tongue?"

"Oh, no, only a few of us. I learned because I thought it might be useful and because I was interested." Lornarië smiled. "That is why the Lady chose me to assist you. Shall I leave you for a short while or would you like me to remain?"

Amarië hesitated. "You do not need to stay. But I was wondering if you could tell me where I might find Haldir when I am finished."

"Haldir?" Lornarië regarded her with a knowing look. "Our handsome Marchwarden has caught your attention, yes? I'm not surprised. Many of us follow him with our eyes and hearts, even those of us who are married. He is unmarried, you know."

For the first time in many years, Amarië could feel herself blush. "You mistake. I am only interested because he is going to assist me with my archery."

Lornarië's small smile suggested she was not convinced. "The Lady has instructed that after you have bathed, healing herbs are to be applied to your leg. Once that is done, I will help you locate him."

Lornarië departed, and Amarië closed her eyes, trying to absorb all that had happened this day. For so long she had thought of Lord Celeborn as her kin, yet now that she had actually met him and heard him confirm it, it became difficult to accept as true. His splendor had so staggered her that she had barely been able to speak a coherent sentence in his presence. What a fool he and Galadriel must have thought her, she reflected with chagrin. And yet how could it be otherwise? Both Celeborn and Galadriel had an otherworldly quality that made any kind of close relationship seem impossible. In fact, she had been so overwhelmed that she had never even mentioned her other reason for being here. What a fool she was! Perhaps they already knew of it, but if they had, they had not said so.

Celeborn's last words to her had been, "We will speak again tomorrow after you have rested," so Ennis and the men would simply have to wait another day. In the meanwhile, she must somehow find the courage to make the plea she had come to make. On the whole, next to acknowledging her as his granddaughter, the other seemed but a small request. Very likely it would only be a matter of asking.

She lifted a hand, opening her eyes to watch the scented bathwater trickle down to the tips of her fingers. Almost of their own accord, her thoughts drifted to Haldir. She had already realized he was dangerous to her emotions, and growing more dangerous by the day. All during their journey to Caras Galadhon, she had been conscious of him, of his height and breadth, his maleness and his strength, even his hands, which were beautiful and well-formed. When those gray eyes fixed on her, she could feel it, even when her head was turned away. His very voice sent shivers of awareness down her spine. And it unsettled her more than she could ever have imagined.

If it were not for the fact that she required his aid, she would avoid him altogether, but that was not sensible. She would simply have to exercise an iron control over her thoughts. Mayhap these lady elves had little else to do than moon over a handsome face, but Amarië had more important things to do.

Lornarië chose that moment to return with an armful of gowns, which she lay upon the bed. "Are you feeling improved? Would you like to try one of these? I've brought some pretty ones I think you will like."

Amarië rose from the water and dried herself with the soft cloth provided for that purpose. She then wrapped the cloth around her and went to inspect the gowns. There were three of them, one white, one celestial blue and one a pale green, uncomplicated in design, yet elegant in their simplicity. The fabrics were like nothing she had ever seen—gossamer soft and smooth, with a slight sheen.

"Whose are they?" she asked tentatively. Never had she imagined wearing anything like this. They must belong to someone else.

Lornarië smiled. "They are yours if you would like them, gifts from Galadriel." Then Lornarië produced a small pouch and directed Amarië to sit in a chair and so that she might clean her wound and apply medicinal herbs, murmuring soft words of healing as she did so. When finished, she wrapped a strip of fabric around Amarië's thigh and bound it gently and skillfully in place with the ends. Next, Lornarië removed the circlet from Amarië's head and applied a comb to her hair until every snarl was gone and it hung gleaming to her waist.

"Now, which gown would you like to wear?"

Amarië selected the green, and Lornarië helped her to put it on. It was long and flowing, yet fitted to the body so that it revealed her curves. The bodice dipped a bit lower than she would have liked, but it seemed no different from the style that Lornarië wore so she supposed it was acceptable. More importantly, the long sleeves did not impede her movements so that she should be able to shoot an arrow.

"Would you like to see yourself?" Lornarië asked. "Look there."

Amarië could not resist. She moved toward the mirror Lornarië had indicated in the corner of the room. Her eyes widened. Years ago, she had worn gowns, usually brown or gray in color, and functional rather than attractive in design. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought to wear something like this, and never had she imagined she might look . . . like this. The thought of Haldir seeing her nearly made her beg for her own clothes back. Nay, she was being foolish! He would neither notice nor care. Recent events had clearly addled her brain. She must keep her eye fixed firmly on her target.

"I do look much changed," she admitted. "And I thank you for your help, Lornarië. Now I must take my bow and locate Haldir. He has promised to assist me in sharpening my skill."

"How generous of him," Lornarië commented with mischief. "And unusual. I know of no female who has ever had such lessons from our Marchwarden. Perhaps other kinds of lessons, but not that." Clearly, Lornarië enjoyed teasing her.

"That may be so," Amarië answered firmly, "but I am only interested in archery."

"Then let us find him." Lornarië glided toward the door. "So that he may give you the lessons you desire."

xxx

Haldir stood on a balcony adjacent to his quarters, looking out over the sweet and familiar panorama of Caras Galadhon. As Marchwarden, his rooms were well situated, for the Lord and Lady fully realized his sacrifice in spending so little time in his beloved city, and wished to reward him for his efforts and acknowledge his status. Always did he enjoy his stays here, which varied in length, depending on the dangers threatening Lothlórien.

He leaned his elbows on the railing and gazed out at the view below. Other capable elves, such as Orophin or Rúmil, occasionally relieved him of his duties so that he might enjoy a stretch of relaxation and pleasure in the home he loved so well. Often, he would seek out a female friend, of which he had many, but this time he had no such inclination. Amarië preyed on his mind, making it difficult to think of searching out other company. He wondered what had been the outcome of her meeting with the Lord and Lady. Beneath her stubbornness, he'd sensed she been afraid, more afraid than when she'd fought against the Orcs. He wondered why.

"Haldir?" The query came from a familiar voice.

Smiling, Haldir straightened and turned. "Ferodir! It's good to see you."

"Tidings of your arrival have swept through Lórien." The other Elf slapped him on the back. Ferodir was a dark-haired Elf, filled with mischief, and much admired among the ladies for his wit and charm. "Is it true you've brought a female with you? And more important, is she pretty?"

"She's well enough," Haldir answered. For some reason, he did not care to discuss Amarië in such terms, and so he steered the talk into another direction. "And you? What do you here? I thought you were in love with that little Mirkwood Elf. What was her name?"

"Mírwen. Alas, she chose another, so here I am back in Lórien, looking for amusement."

"What of Lornarië? I thought you were fond of each other."

"Indeed, she and I are very close. In fact," he peered over the balcony, "here she comes now. And with a lady I've not met. Could this be your protégé? Why does she carry a bow and quiver?"

Knowing it could be no other than Amarië, Haldir followed Ferodir's gaze, and could not prevent a sharp intake of breath. Caught off-guard for once in his life, he did not immediately answer Ferodir's question. Instead, he stared at Amarië with an involuntary quickening of male interest, taking in every detail of her transformation with his keen elven eyesight.

"That is what you call well enough?" Ferodir murmured in his ear.

For a moment more, Haldir did not move or speak. He just stood there, gazing at Amarië. Then, recalling himself, he glanced back at Ferodir and found that his friend's overt admiration displeased him. "Amarië is not an Elf," he warned. "Nor is she for you to toy with, so do not think of it. If you speak to her, you must use the common tongue."

"But I don't know the common tongue," Ferodir complained.

"Then you are out of luck, my friend."

Maintaining a casual stance, Haldir watched their approach, an unaccustomed confusion rocking his senses. He had thought her lovely, but now…now she was more than lovely. The green fabric molded to her figure in a way that made the blood pound in his veins. He wanted her. He wanted to touch her.

This was folly! And yet he could scarcely stop himself from watching the gentle sway of her hips as she followed Lornarië along the walkway in their direction. With immense effort, he tamped down his reaction, schooling his face into a careful mask.

"Mae govannen, Haldir ar' Ferodir," Lornarië greeted them, then politely switched to the common tongue as she turned to Haldir. "Amarië wished me to help her locate you. She is ready for her archery lesson."

Ferodir greeted Lornarië with a kiss on the cheek. "Introduce me to your friend, my love, so that I may welcome her with my smiles."

Haldir watched sardonically as Lornarië complied, and Ferodir bowed low over Amarië's hand. "Fairest of the fair," he said in Elvish, "I welcome you to Lórien. My heart already resides in this sweet hand I hold. Will you marry me?"

Lornarië giggled and turned to Amarië, who seemed bemused by Ferodir's antics even without understanding his words. "You must ignore him," she said. "He is our worst flirt. I shall not tell you what he said. It would only make you blush."

"You will come with me, Amarië," Haldir put in, misliking the direction the conversation was taking. "I will take you to one of the practice areas." In Elvish, he added, "Lornarië, it is good to see you again. Ferodir, I am sure that you and Lornarië can find some way to amuse yourselves."

Without waiting for Amarië's agreement, he caught hold of her arm just above the elbow, steering her away from the other two elves. "I had not expected you to ask for a lesson this day," he said, hoping to distract her before she could resist. "I thought you would want to rest. Yet I think there are enough hours of daylight left for some target practice."

Lornarië stared speculatively after Haldir as he led Amarië away. "Did you ever see him behave in such a way? He seems almost possessive of her."

Ferodir tilted his head, considering. "Or he may simply see her as a duty to which he must attend. Haldir takes his responsibilities very seriously. I am always trying to lighten his mood with my nonsense, but more often than not, I am unable."

Lornarië shook her head. "Nay, he considers her more than a duty, mark my words. Our valiant Marchwarden's armor is showing signs of weakness."

xxx

Amarië walked along beside Haldir, allowing him to guide her with his hand although it was something she did not normally permit. It was a new sensation and rather pleasant, but the tingling in the pit of her stomach told her it was also unwise. When they began to descend a set of steps, she managed to twist from his grasp in a fluid movement that she hoped did not offend. The last thing she wanted to do was anger him, but neither she did not want him to think she would give him authority over her movements.

"Where is this practice area?" she asked, her chin held high.

He glanced at her. "Quite a distance. Are you certain you are not too weary?"

She was weary, but there was no way she would admit it now. "You sound like Ennis," she said pettishly. "Do you fuss so over your rangers?"

"Few of my bowmen are female, and none of them have endured what you have endured these last two days."

"You have female bowmen?" She glanced at him in surprise.

"Elven females are free to do whatever they wish," he said in his arrogant voice. "It is but one illustration of the superiority of our race."

For once he did not annoy her, perhaps because she saw his point. Still, she clamped shut her mouth to be sure she did not say the wrong thing, and instead observed him from the corner of her eye. He had exchanged the gray apparel he'd worn in the woods for a tunic and leggings of dark blue, which contrasted strikingly with his silvery hair and pale skin. As always, his strong profile fascinated her, made her want to do nothing but gaze at him. Each time she saw him, the pull was stronger, more potent.

She looked away quickly, flooded with an almost painful yearning for something she could put no name upon. Why did he have this effect on her? Was she the victim of some elvish spell?

The practice area was fairly large, situated on the forest floor near the southern edge of the city. Targets had been set up at various distances, some completely beyond the range of any human archer, but there were others that were quite close. At a glance, Amarië knew it was exactly what she needed, a perfect place to hone her skill.

With deliberate effort, she shut off her awareness of Haldir so that she could derive maximum benefit from his experience and knowledge. She was as yet unsure whether she would linger in Lothlórien or return with the men to the land of her birth in order to help defend and train the people there. She had no interest in returning permanently, but it remained to be seen whether her assistance would be needed. All depended on whether the remaining twenty men, including Ennis, could be sufficiently well-trained so that they could go back and take charge of the necessary defensive instruction. There were plenty of able men back there who only lacked skills rather than incentive or aptitude.

At least the Marchwarden had made no comment on her appearance. If he had, she would have felt self-conscious, and that would likely have affected her aim. On the other hand, a tiny, unreasonable part of her was actually piqued. All her life, she'd been self-confident around males, but since she'd met Haldir that self-confidence had been severely shaken. On the other hand, she'd much prefer him to admire her skill with a bow than her pretty face. Better to be the keeper of his respect than the object of his lust. The first could only help her; the latter could lead to nothing but pain.

"You see that target down there?" He indicated the one he was talking about with his hand. "That is an Orc. Put three arrows into him right now, as quickly as you can."

Concentrating hard, Amarië drew an arrow from her quiver, sent it soaring, and repeated the action two more times. Each arrow found its mark directly in the center of the target. Pleased, she glanced at Haldir to see his reaction, her pulse quickening despite her resolve to remain aloof.

"Good," he said, his face impassive, "except that all three arrows bounced off his chest armor. He is now there—" he gestured to another target, "and coming at you fast. Kill him."

Her attention jerked back; she put an arrow into the new target precisely where she imagined the weakness in his armor lay, close to the neck.

"Very good. He's dead." The approval in his voice gave her a jolt of pure pleasure, yet inwardly she scoffed at her reaction. What did his approval matter? She had never needed anyone's approval before, certainly not this haughty Elf, even if he was Captain of the Galadhrim.

"Now there are three coming at you. Observe the colors—the red, the blue, and the black. Kill them now."

Her jaw set, she aimed at them in order of the closet to the farthest, killing the first two, but the third she missed entirely, just as she had during battle with the Orcs. "You see?" she said in frustration. "That is what happens. What am I doing wrong?"

He crossed his arms over his chest. "I saw nothing amiss. Did you shift your gaze?"

"I do not think so." Suddenly she became aware that several male elves had entered the target area and stood watching her with interest and curiosity. Her nerves tautened. She would have preferred not to have an audience.

"Do not let them distract you," Haldir said. "You must focus. That one over there is a Uruk-hai. He's taller than the others and he's running toward you fast. Kill him."

She put an arrow straight into the crevice in his neck armor.

This continued for some time, with only two more misses. Several of the elves walked down and retrieved her arrows, returning them to her with elvish compliments she was forced to pretend she did not understand.

"That one down there." Haldir pointed. "Put five arrows into it, four in a circle and one in the center. Quickly."

She fired off the five arrows just as he directed, and each landed exactly where she aimed.

Haldir's expression did not change, but she sensed he was impressed. "Try the furthest target," he directed. It was very far away, a mere speck in the distance.

Gathering every ounce of concentration, Amarië took aim, sighting the object with a narrowed gaze, and let loose the arrow. It sailed through the air and landed only slightly off-center. She heard murmurings from the elves behind her.

Haldir walked over to her, his gaze assessing her thoughtfully. "I have seen strong men unable to do what you just did, although it is within the skill of most elves. It is as if you carry elven blood. Is that possible?"

She knew from his tone that he was serious, but this was neither the time nor place to make confessions. And it seemed presumptuous to announce what Lord Celeborn had not seen fit to do.

"Unlikely," she said lightly. "If so, it would be a surprise to my family."

His gray eyes remained locked with hers as though he thought to find the answer there. "I must have you try a bow of the Galadhrim with elven arrows."

"Now?" she asked, her enthusiasm renewed.

"No, not now. It is growing late. You must eat and rest."

She opened her mouth to protest, then heard her stomach rumble. No doubt the Marchwarden's elven ears also heard.

"Very well," she yielded. "But do not think I will let you forget the offer."

"No, I'm sure you won't, Amarië." Haldir's tone was dry, but a gleam of amusement shone in his eyes.

And for a fleeting moment, she dropped her defenses and simply smiled back.

xxx

Amarië moaned, her body twisting as she slept, wayward dreams sliding through her mind, splintering before they coalesced into anything she would later remember. She was too hot, too cold, too bewildered by all that surrounded her. Too much . . . too much. She could not understand, could not absorb it all . . . too much light . . . it hurt . . .

_Cormamin lindua ele lle, meleth nín_ —my heart sings to see thee, my beloved, my daughter.

Her elven father reached out through the mist, taking hold of her hands, guiding her footsteps along the harrowing precipice. His arms went around her, drawing her close. Have a care, my daughter. These are dangerous times. He is there for you. He will help you. You will help him. This is as it should be.

Another Elf, tall and strong, fair of hair and dark of brow, a proud bearing. His essence bound to hers by the grace of Ilúvatar unto the end of time.

_Amarië,_ he whispers, his need and hunger great.

Galadriel's voice, harmonious and gentle, like niphredil caressed by a spring breeze. Answers come when the seeker is ready. _Be not afraid, child._

_I am not ready. I hurt too much._

A father's touch.

_I am here for you, my daughter. Be strong. Hear my words. Here is the lesson . . .  
_  
xxx

She woke to sunshine and birdsong, the sheets nestled softly against her bared skin, the air wafting cool and pleasant as it drifted through the open window. She cast the sheets aside and rose, for some reason eager to start the day even though the future still lay shrouded in darkness.

She glanced around, searching instinctively for her clothes and her weapons. Lornarië had provided her with a nightdress, but she had not worn it. Last night it had seemed delicious to sleep naked, but this morning, she realized that it had probably not been wise. She knew that she had dreamed of Haldir, and the memory of those dreams filled her with disquiet. Later, there had been dreams of a different sort, but those were now veiled from her, wispy and insubstantial as smoke.

Her former clothing had not yet been returned, so she had little choice but to wear one of the gowns Galadriel had sent. In truth she did not object; for they were comfortable and pleasant to look upon, and gave her ease of movement. She slipped on undergarments, then chose the blue, pulling it over her head and smoothing it into place while her thoughts drifted. Today she would speak again with Lord Celeborn. Her grandfather. So odd those words sounded, she dared not utter them aloud.

She went and stood outside her chamber on a small balcony overlooking the lofty city, soaking in the muted sounds of honeyed elven voices floating from walkways and nearby chambers. This was the closest she had ever come to feeling completely content, and for a few minutes she shut her eyes and drank in the feeling.

"Good morning, Amarië."

She started, wondering tensely how long he had been watching her. Her senses must be letting her down if he could steal up on her so easily.

"Good morning, Marchwarden," she said, using his title to insert distance between them. "Is it already time to try that Galadhrim bow?"

The corners of his lips lifted in a small, very attractive smile. "Nay, eager one, not yet. I come to see if you would care to take food with me in my quarters. After that, Lord Celeborn has asked that you attend him once more." This last sentence was stated with an inflection that betrayed his curiosity.

She hesitated, but could think of no excuse to refuse. In fact, she did not want to refuse, and that knowledge set off a warning in her head.

"That is kind of you," she said, against all wisdom. "I would like that."

He offered his arm in a courtly gesture and she took it, her heart fluttering as though she were a girl of sixteen. Never in her life had she felt so flustered by a male. Or so attracted. She must resist him.

Why?

Because her wits were becoming addled. Because, were she to take him as a lover, he would set her very soul aflame with nothing but desire for him. He would consume her, destroy her. To lose herself like that would be madness, especially when she hovered on the brink of finding herself at last. For so long had she wanted a strong lover, yet now the chance was upon her, she lacked the courage to make the leap. Confusion clouded her mind. She still had so much to do, so much to learn.

She was not ready.

In any case, he was Elf-kind, and had lived longer than she could imagine. It would not be the same for him, and she could not risk a broken heart, not now when her fragile spirit was only starting to gain strength. Thanks to Lornarië's sly insinuations, she knew that Haldir's prowess was not limited to the battlefield. No doubt he had acquired many conquests, but she would not be one of them.

His rooms were not so far from hers as she imagined. They were one level higher, positioned at such an angle that when she looked out his window, she could see her own room. She had not covered her window last night. If he had looked, could he have seen her in her bed while she slept? The idea sent a flood of heat searing through her body.

"This is simple fare," he commented, laying food out upon the table. "Bread, cheese, berries, wine, ale. Will that suffice for you, Amarië? The bread is freshly baked."

"It sounds perfect. Much more than I have been accustomed to of late." She wondered if he had made the bread himself, but did not ask.

At first they ate in silence until she could bear it no more. "Have you any word about the wounded men? Do they still heal? Have there been any more Orc attacks?"

"No ill news has arrived, which means that all is well. You need not worry. My soldiers are skilled healers. Your people are in good hands."

The remark drew her attention to his own hands. They were beautiful to look upon, the fingers long and strong and clever. She knew that any action they took would be expert.

He chose that moment to shoot a glance her way, so that for a heart-stopping moment she thought he'd read her thoughts. "Did you sleep well last night?"

"Well enough," she answered, her voice polite. Even if he guessed where her dreams had wandered, she would not give him any sign that he was right.

He sat back in his chair, his gray eyes watching her closely. "Have you had enough to eat? Is there anything else you would like?"

She pushed her plate away. "No, thank you. I am finished."

He tapped a finger on the edge of the table, as though he would say more. Yet all he said was, "Are you ready then? Shall I take you to Lord Celeborn?"

Quickly, she rose to her feet. "Yes, by all means. I would not want to keep him waiting."

"Very well, Amarië." This time he did not take her arm, but opened the door for her in a courteous manner. "Shall we go?"

tbc


	6. Lineage

**Part 5 – Lineage**

"Good morning, Amarië." Lord Celeborn greeted her benevolently as Amarië paused just inside the arched doorway of the audience chamber, her hand on the elaborately carved lintel. He was alone this time. Without Galadriel at his side, he seemed more approachable, though only slightly, for he possessed a magnificence of his own, a majesty so great it nearly paralyzed her wits.

"Enter, child," he continued in Elvish. "Why do you hesitate? Am I so fearsome that you must look upon me with such doubt?"

Moving so gracefully he seemed to float, he came over to her, gazing down at her with those deep-set eyes, which seemed to see so much.

Amarië flushed. "Pardon, my lord. It is just that I am overwhelmed."

"Much here is new to you," he agreed, "but you have long known of your elven ties. Now you must start to accept them." He drew her hand into the crook of his arm, escorting her through the outer chamber into an inner chamber bearing a grouping of cushioned chairs and other amenities. "Let us sit and be easy. There is much to discuss."

They sat. Celeborn regarded her with a curious smile as though he knew more about her thoughts than she did. "Did you find your room comfortable?"

"Oh, yes!" Still nervous, she rushed the words. "I hope I did not displace someone?"

"No, that is one of the rooms reserved for guests, though you are no guest, Amarië, but a rightful inhabitant of our city. You must find it odd, living as we do so high above the ground, our rooms built upon Telain, connected by walkways in the air. But to us it is as natural as breathing."

"It is very beautiful here," she said shyly. "I like it."

He smiled, but did not reply. He seemed to be waiting for her to continue, but when she did not, he added, "There is something on your mind, child. I see it in your eyes. What is it that you would say to me?"

She took a breath, knowing that this was her chance. "My lord," she began self-consciously, "I am grateful that you have seen fit to acknowledge me. Naturally, I had hoped, but I was afraid . . . I was never certain . . ."

"Of course I acknowledge you, child. You are the daughter of my son."

Still dazed by his easy acceptance of her, she bowed her head, looking down at her fingertips. "His name, my lord? Can you tell me . . .?" 

"Celebrenin," he replied, and added nothing more.

"Celebrenin," she murmured, savoring the sound. "I know this sounds foolish, but . . . he is dead, I assume?"

"Slain by Orcs," Celeborn confirmed, his voice tinged with sorrow. "They came upon him while he wandered in the wilderness. He fought valiantly, but there were too many."

She absorbed this with a frown, imagining the scene all too easily. It pained her to consider it. "He broke my mother's heart, I think. She was a beautiful woman with a proud spirit. I've been told she was never the same after he passed through our village."

"I grieve for her. My son had his faults. He is still learning, as we all are."

"Even you?" she dared to ask.

Celeborn inclined his head. "Even I."

Emotion chose that moment to strike—intense, harsh, like a sudden storm in the night, careless of its path.

"What am I, my lord?" she cried out. Her chest ached from the pressure of holding back the tide. "Can you tell me that?"

"You are yourself, dear child." He reached out and caught hold of her hand, holding it between both of his. "No more and no less. Once you accept that, all else is simple."

"But what does that mean? I am neither Elf nor human! I am nothing!"

"You are everything," he contradicted her gently. "You are part of the whole, an essential part, matchless and perfect in your own completeness. There is none other like you, thus you serve your unique purpose without effort, even while you struggle and search. Indeed, you cannot escape serving your purpose, yet you can serve it more fully by willfully aligning yourself with your own Truth."

"I do not understand."

"You will, in time. Now, there is another matter on your mind, is there not?"

She stared at him, confounded by his seeming omniscience, but determined to say what she must say before she lost her nerve.

"My lord," she began, "when I embarked upon this journey, five-and-twenty men accompanied me. Five are now dead, and two lie wounded on the edge of your land. Of those that remain, one is my half-brother, Ennis. The others are simple farmers, farriers, shopkeepers, and the like. They are a peace-loving people, but peace has left our land and other ways must be learned. As you know, I am here for my own purpose, but they . . . they have come to learn the art of warfare from the elves of Lothlórien."

Celeborn displayed no sign of surprise. "And who among us would teach them this warfare?"

She frowned, the mild question catching her unawares. "Why, your Marchwarden, I suppose, and his bowmen . . . wardens, he calls them . . . warriors . . ."

"Then it is Haldir you must ask," he informed her patiently.

"No!" She shook her head. "He will refuse! I am sure of it."

Celeborn's face remained serene. "You must know him very well indeed if you can be so certain of his answer."

Confused, she pressed her hands together in her lap. "Nay, I do not know him well at all, but I have seen him sneer at them . . . at us. He mocked our fighting skills."

"I do not think he sneered at you yesterday when he took you to the archery range."

"You heard of that?" It had not occurred to her that the tale would spread so fast. She looked down, flooded with the memory.

"Word has reached me of the human female who possesses elven skill with a bow. Many are curious. Why did you not tell Haldir the truth? He must suspect by now."

Her lowered eyes flashed up. "I did not know if you would object. You did not give me leave to speak of it."

"You thought I wished to hide it?" he queried, very gently. "My dear child, I only thought to grant you time for reflection before making an announcement that would draw so much attention upon you. Did you think I was ashamed of you?"

"No, of course not." Yet she colored because she had indeed wondered this.

"Amarië, look at me. Do you want me to tell him?"

"Perhaps that might be best," she said, her voice low.

"Why would it be best?"

She released a breath. "I fear he may be annoyed with me. And then he will certainly refuse our request for elven aid." She paused, then added pleadingly, "Could you not command him to help us?"

Celeborn sat back in his chair. "I could, of course, but I will not. Haldir is the captain of the Galadhrim, one of our highest-ranking elves. He has earned the right to make such decisions on his own, and I would not insult him by withholding that right. This is not a matter of alliances or treaties. This is a favor, and as such must be requested rather than required."

"I see." Amarië's heart sank.

Yet Celeborn's smile was warm. "You act as emissary for your people on this matter, therefore you must take up the gauntlet. You must face down your own dragons, child. If you do, I think you'll find those dragons are not so fierce."

xxx

Celeborn strolled beside her along the walkways of the city, attracting curious glances from those they passed. The Elf lord's stature and dignity made Amarië feel small and clumsy by comparison, but she kept her chin up and hid her sense of inadequacy as best she could.

They found Haldir on a talan set high above the city; according to Celeborn, it was a place the Marchwarden often went to be alone. He stood tall and straight, gazing out toward a distant part of the Golden Wood, as though his longtime habit of watching for enemies followed him even here.

He turned at their approach, his fair hair ruffled by the breeze. "My lord?" he said, his proud face alert. His gaze shifted to Amarië, then back again to Celeborn with just a hint of inquiry.

Celeborn waited until they reached Haldir's side before he spoke. "My friend," he said in the common tongue, "it is good to have you here in the city for a change. Long have you guarded our borders with diligence. You deserve a respite from your duties."

"It is good to be here," Haldir answered with equal courtesy and a slight bow.

"I bear news that may or may not come as a surprise. It concerns Amarië. Perhaps her performance with a bow has made you suspect that she is no mere human." He paused. "In fact, she is half elven. She is also my granddaughter."

Complete silence greeted his words. Haldir's gaze moved to Amarië, his face devoid of expression. Shrinking inwardly, she offered him a small smile, an apology of sorts, but won no response for her effort.

"I see," he said, his expression unreadable. "Then she is Celebrenin's offspring?"

Offspring. Somehow it seemed to her a rather ill mannered word. Her stomach clenched with the certainty that he was angry, but this was followed by a small spurt of indignation. Why should she care what he thought? If only she did not need his help, she could walk away from him without a backward look. Yet even as this entered her mind, she knew she did care what he thought of her. She cared very much. You see, whispered a voice in her head. Already he makes you weak . . . he is dangerous . . .

"Yes," Celeborn answered. "And although my son's behavior was often ill-considered, Amarië is a great gift to us. To me, as well as to all of Lothlórien. I am very pleased to have her here."

To Amarië's astonishment, Haldir turned and gave her a bow. "Welcome to Lothlórien, my lady." Still, his formal words were at odds with his demeanor, for his gray eyes chilled her with unspoken accusation.

"Haldir, I will leave Amarië with you for now. I believe she has a request to make of you, and I would give her privacy to make it." Celeborn touched her arm in a reassuring gesture, then glided silently away.

Amarië looked down at the ground, her body taut with tension. She felt Haldir's stern gaze on her face. "You could have told me," he said quietly.

She glanced up. "Nay, I could not."

"I asked you yesterday. A direct question, Amarië. You lied to me."

"Yes, I did," she admitted. "And now you are angry."

"I do not enjoy being lied to, or being made to look a fool. Many have asked me about you. I told them what I thought was true."

"I am sorry." She lifted her chin. "I did not feel that I could speak of it. The time was not right."

He sighed and looked away, his lips pressed together as if considering her words. After a few seconds, he seemed to gather up his annoyance and set it aside. "Very well. We will not mention this again. What request would you ask of me?"

Flustered, she moistened her lips. "A small favor."

"What is it?"

"It concerns the men in my company. Perhaps you wonder what their purpose is in coming here."

"I do indeed. They are a hopeless lot."

"I trust you do not mean that. They are good men, all of them. Strong and able and fearless."

"What is your point?" He sounded suspicious and rather haughty, the way he'd been in the moment of their first meeting.

Feeling a little daunted, she went on, "I have spoken to Lord Celeborn, and he has indicated that you must be the one to decide."

"Decide what?"

She pushed a lock of hair from her face, and embarked upon the same speech she had made to Lord Celeborn. "—they are peace-loving folk, but as you know, all peace has left our land. Those who would survive must learn another way to live. Those twenty men your wardens guard, those men you call a hopeless lot, they have braved a long journey to come here. They have come to ask your aid, Haldir of Lórien. They come to learn the art of warfare from the elves of Lothlórien."

"Learn the art of warfare?" He had the nerve to laugh, not a pleasant laugh, but incredulous and rather sour. "That is what you call a small favor?"

Dismayed, she studied him; this was the exactly the reaction she had anticipated. However, speaking of it had served to strengthen her resolve to do what she could for the people they had left behind. She thought of the families she knew, of their fear and desperation, and of the Orcs and evil men who continually trampled over their lands, burning and destroying and killing as they went.

"Please, Haldir," she pleaded. "Two weeks of your time, perhaps three. It could make such a difference to my people."

"I thought the elves were your people now. You switch allegiances quickly."

She flinched. "Will you consider the request or will you not?"

"I cannot see that two or three weeks could make a difference. It could take months or years to turn most of them into satisfactory warriors."

"You underestimate them, my brother most of all. They are motivated by their love for their homeland, and for the people they have left behind who are counting on them to come back with skills they can pass on to others, perhaps even new, more effective weapons."

He looked down at her without speaking, his expression stiff and shuttered.

"Please, " she repeated humbly. Moving closer, she placed her hand on his chest to make her meaning clear. "I will do anything you ask. Anything." Her heart rate quickened as once again she made the only offer she could think of that might sway him, even though it might forever seal his poor opinion of her.

"You already made that offer, Amarië. My answer is the same."

When she realized he was again rejecting her, her face went hot with humiliation. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice shaking despite her efforts to control it. "I have nothing else to bargain with." She started to turn away, but his hand prevented her.

"Amarië, look at me." The censure had left his voice.

Mortified, she could not do so. She heard him sigh.

He caught hold of her shoulders, turning her toward him, and lifted her chin with his hand. "You do not have to offer me your body to win my aid. If the Lord and Lady do not forbid it, we will bring the men to Caras Galadhon, train them in warfare, and send them on their way when it is done. Does that satisfy you?"

Startled, her eyes widened. "Yes. Oh, yes, it does." She clenched her hands into fists at her side, afraid that she would do something foolish, such as hug him. Another rejection she could not take just now. "Thank you," she whispered, still amazed.

"It will not be an easy task. You will have to help." A smile now lurked in his eyes. Somehow, against all odds, she had persuaded him, though she knew not what had turned the tide.

"I will help in any way I can," she said.

"My one request is that you do not lie to me again. And I have changed my mind regarding one other matter."

"What is that?" she asked anxiously.

He touched her cheek with a finger, tracing the curve of her jaw. "One kiss will I take from you. It's a small price, I think. Will you mind?"

"No, I won't mind," she said, her knees turning to water.

Danger. 

Her breath caught in her throat as his hands settled at her waist. Slowly, he pulled her closer, seeming in no great hurry to proceed. He was still watching her, studying her, his gray eyes unwavering, their expression obscure. She could scarcely breathe. What was he waiting for? What were his thoughts?

Irresistible danger. Unbearable tension.

Now his head was lowering, his mouth closing on hers, gentle but for a moment, then urgent, demanding. Many men had she kissed, many caresses had she known, yet none had warmed her, not like this…not like this. He kissed her hotly, fully, expertly, his tongue sweeping inside her mouth as though he had the right.

Dizzy with need, she slid her palms up his arms to his well-defined shoulders, feeling the hard Elven muscle beneath the cloth of his tunic, shaped by centuries of training and battle. His silken hair slid against her hand as she smoothed her fingers up the line of his jaw to the tip of his pointed ear. Ah, that did it. She heard a moan low in his throat . . .

He pulled away before she was ready, while her pulses still raged and shuddered with need. "Enough," he murmured, his breathing ragged. "I fear that was a little more than one kiss."

She said nothing, unable to speak.

"You are Celeborn's granddaughter, which means I owe you my allegiance and my courtesy. I should not have done that. I should apologize."

What could she say? It seemed he recovered more quickly than she. Perhaps from habit?

"I agreed to it," she said. "I do not want an apology."

He wore an enigmatic look. "I am not making one. I merely said I should."

"Nor would you have been allowed to kiss me if I had not wished it."

"That I knew," he replied, a slight quirk to his lips. "Yet I think for now we must put this matter behind us. We have work to do, warriors to train."

She straightened her spine, disconcerted to discover that for those brief moments she had actually forgotten about that other business. If a kiss from him could wreak such havoc, what chaos could a full night do?

"I must speak with Lord Celeborn first, then I will send a message to my brothers," he went on briskly. "They will see that the humans are brought here forthwith. Rúmil speaks enough of the common tongue to manage them. Tomorrow we will start training with both bow and sword." He paused, as if considering. "How is your swordplay? Do you have skill enough to help with their training?"

"Some," she admitted. "I have practiced only with Ennis. And with Orcs," she added wryly. "I am no match for Orcish strength, but I am quick."

"That is your Elvish blood speaking. I should have seen it. Eventually you must learn to speak our tongue, but that can wait. Now I must go. Do you wish for my escort, or can you find your way about?"

"I would like to stay here for a while," she answered seriously. "This is a good place for reflection."

"I will leave you then." He turned to go.

"Marchwarden," she said, staying him for a moment. "Thank you. You have a kind heart."

Haldir gave a short laugh. "Not always, Amarië. But in this matter, you may rely on me. I must first be sure this is allowed, but if so, I give you my word that your brother and his men will have the opportunity to learn from the elves of Lothlórien. How much they learn will be up to them."

xxx

Galadriel and Celeborn smiled upon Haldir as he stood before them in their audience chamber. "The request is unusual," Galadriel told the Marchwarden, "yet it has been foreseen and a purpose exists. You may proceed, Haldir. Allow the humans to enter our city, but be sure they are watched."

Celeborn glanced at her, then returned his gaze to Haldir. "Amarië thought it would be difficult to persuade you."

"It was not easy," Haldir admitted, without adding details.

"You showed compassion," Galadriel stated, "yet you now question yourself. Do not give in to self-doubt, Haldir. Your judgment was sound."

"You do not call it weakness, my lady?"

"It is not weakness to yield to kindness. It is weakness to yield to cruelty."

Haldir bowed his head. He had lived long and learned much, yet the focus of his life had been on the protection and defense of his own kind. When killing was a way of life, one did not tend to dwell on gentler virtues.

Celeborn spoke. "Have you enough elves to teach these men and still keep our borders safe?"

"Yes," Haldir answered, "I have considered that. I can easily spare eight including myself, and it will not weaken us on any front. And Amarië has sufficient skill with the bow to be of help. I would like to have Rúmil and Orophin here. By now they will have the measure of these men, and the men will perhaps have grown less hostile to my brothers. Also Rúmil speaks a little of their language."

"Who will take charge of the watch?" Celeborn asked.

Haldir named another Elf, one who had taken his place in the past and fulfilled his duty admirably.

"All seems to be in order then," Celeborn said. "And Amarië?"

Perplexed, Haldir did not answer at once. "I do not take your meaning, my lord."

"She has explained all matters to your satisfaction?"

"I still do not follow you."

Celeborn exchanged a glance with Galadriel.

"In time, you will," Galadriel told him with a smile. "Remember, she is young."

"I know it well, my lady."

Haldir hid his confusion, knowing it would be useless to question the Lady further upon the matter. Instead, he bowed and took his leave, heading for his quarters so that he could write out a message for his brothers. Of Amarië, he could not think right now, for if he did, the message would go unwritten. Tonight, when he lay upon his bed, he would think of her all too much.

Celeborn watched him leave. "I would that she had told him," he said with a sigh.

"She thinks her knowledge of our tongue will serve some hidden purpose. It will, only it will not be the purpose she imagines."

"For her sake, I hope he understands."

"We cannot tell him. It is her choice to make. She must learn to trust."

"What purpose will her knowledge serve?"

Galadriel turned to her husband, immeasurable sorrow flickering in her eyes "The mirror has shown me something that has not yet settled in my mind. Pain is drawing near. Still, there is hope. There is always hope."

xxx

"What does it say?" Rúmil demanded, as Orophin perused Haldir's short letter.

"You and I are to bring the men to Caras Galadhon at once. Litters have been sent for the two wounded ones." His blond head came up, his face baffled. "What in the name of the Valar is he thinking? The Lord and Lady have agreed to this?"

"They must have, else he would not command it. Only the two of us?"

"Nay, we are to bring five others of our choosing. For what purpose, he does not say. Why am I not surprised? Ever has our brother enjoyed taking his revenge when we have played some trick on him." His voice held both amusement and frustration.

"What trick have we played?" Rúmil asked, then chuckled. "Ah, you mean the wager."

"Yes, but as for that, these are good tidings indeed." Orophin grinned. "Clearly, the woman's influence is at hand in this."

Rúmil flashed him an answering grin. "So things progress. But how far?"

"That we cannot know. How many days has it been?"

"Can it be only two? It seems like a century we have been watching these men. Such children they are."

"Remember, you said no more than four days. I said he would withstand her charms for a week. That leaves a middle ground where neither of us wins."

Rúmil glanced around at some of the other elves, those guarding the men and in the nearby trees. "We could get some of these others involved to make it more interesting."

"Nay, brother, what are you thinking? Haldir would never forgive us if we so sullied the lady's name. Between us, it is different. We are his brothers."

"You are right, of course. 'Twas but a fleeting thought. The trick will be to discover if and when it has happened."

"Oh, I do not think that will be so difficult," Orophin replied. "It will show in his face, do you not think?"

Rúmil considered. "I suppose you are right. Others may not see the difference, but you and I will know. If we can see the two of them together, that is. We will watch his face when he looks upon her."

"What if it does not happen at all?"

"Nay, have you forgotten her beauty? Or the look on his face when she put her fair hand on his chest? The question is not if but when."

"I think you have the right of it. This should prove interesting indeed." Orophin tucked Haldir's letter away, adding, "Which elves shall we take with us?"

"Oh, let us choose those who like to laugh the most."

"That sounds fair," Orophin approved. "If we have to be around these humans, we may as well have fun with it."

xxx

Amarië did not see Haldir until late in the day, when she had recovered enough poise that she could face him once more. In the interim, she had wandered the pathways of Caras Galadhon, exploring its nooks and secret places, and meeting various Elf-folk, who greeted her in the Elvish language and smiled upon her in a friendly manner. None had seemed to expect her to answer in their tongue, but the respect they accorded her suggested that Lord Celeborn had begun to make her lineage known.

Eventually she wandered down to the archery range, where she found Haldir and Ferodir indulging in a bout of swordplay on the training court. Neither Elf glanced her way as she joined other onlookers, for their eyes were locked together as they circled each other, each bearing a wicked-looking sword in his hand. Both elves had changed from their fine clothes to what looked like attire meant for training purposes. Both were tall and lean, with Haldir being slightly more muscular. Amarië was certain he would quickly best the slimmer Elf, but within moments she saw that Ferodir had talents beyond his charm and wit.

Still, it was Haldir who held her eye. She had seen his skill with a bow during the battle with the Orcs, but with a sword, he was equally impressive. He whirled and parried with such ease and grace, moving effortlessly and with such swiftness that it stole her breath away. He was far quicker than she had realized, far more dexterous and agile. So much could her brother and his men learn from him if he were to assist in the training! Whether he planned to, she did not know.

The swords gleamed in a blur of speed, clashing and parrying and thrusting, the two elves moving and circling, their faces grim with concentration, as though it were a matter of life and death and no mere game. For Haldir, she supposed this training was indeed necessary to his continued existence, whereas Ferodir appeared to do nothing but enjoy the finer elements of life. Amarië twisted her fingers together in her tension, for the swords they used were real, their edges sharp and very deadly. Quite easily could one of them be injured, for they did not appear to be holding back or using sensible precautions.

If Haldir were harmed, she would kill Ferodir.

The thought came into her mind unbidden, catching her by surprise with its intensity and force. How had it come to this? How could one simple kiss have this effect? But there had been nothing simple about it. He had called one kiss a small price to pay, but it came at no small price to her. It was a memory that would long haunt her dreams and all her waking moments. She wondered how much it had affected him, and whether he would dream of her at all.

All at once she noticed that the style of fighting had altered. As if by tacit agreement, both elves began to use tactics they had not used before, becoming more physical and vicious, throwing their weight around, attempting to trip each other and knock each other down with brute animal force. For an instant, she was horrified until she realized that of course they would have to be prepared for methods used by other, less civilized races. Still, it made it even harder to watch, especially when Ferodir successfully brought Haldir to the ground, then hit him in the face with the hilt of his sword. She saw blood spurt from Haldir's nose, then in the next moment it was Ferodir on the ground with the Marchwarden's sword pressed to his throat.

"Yield," Haldir demanded.

Ferodir glared at him, then broke into a wide grin. "I yield to you, mellon nîn. Until next time, that is."

Haldir stepped back, shoving his hair from his bloodied face. He held out a hand to help the other Elf to his feet, and Ferodir accepted with a laugh and a bow to their audience. "I fear we have shocked Lady Amarië," he remarked in Elvish. "She does not like me very well at the moment."

Haldir turned and looked at Amarië, then walked over to where she was standing as their audience dispersed. "Where have you been all day?" he asked, switching to the common tongue.

"Exploring," she replied, trying to appear cool and composed. "You look terrible."

His mouth slanted into an almost boyish smile. "Yes, but I feel very good. Ferodir provided me with some much needed practice. I think I did well." He sounded quite pleased with himself.

"His skill surprised me," she replied, wishing she had a handkerchief to wipe away the blood, "though yours did not."

As if he read her mind, Ferodir brought over a cloth and handed it to her with a bow and a smile. Was this something that lady elves normally did? Or was Ferodir up to his mischief?

Her gaze met Haldir's, but he only raised one dark brow as if daring her to do it. Well, why not? It was not so great a thing, after all. She reached up and dabbed the blood from his face, making sure she did not look directly into his eyes. He was smiling, and looking rather smug, too. Perhaps the arrogant Elf liked the idea of Lord Celeborn's granddaughter cleaning his face for him in public.

"Have you any word from your brothers?" she asked.

"Nay, I did not ask for word. They are to bring the men, and should arrive by nightfall. You will see your own brother soon."

His words gladdened her heart. "Where will I find them when they arrive?"

"They will encamp at the base of our city, and will be guarded at all times. We do not let humans roam freely here. Do not frown, Amarië. I have done everything you have asked of me, have I not?"

"Thus far," she admitted.

"Do not concern yourself, pen-neth. All your desires will be seen to." He paused, as if suddenly realizing the implications of his words. "Which reminds me, a word of advice. When you retire for the night, it might be wise to draw your curtains. Either that, or wear a nightgown."

He turned and strolled away from her, joining Ferodir upon the archery field.

Flabbergasted, Amarië blushed scarlet, then threw the bloody cloth on the ground and stomped on it, vividly cursing the Marchwarden of the Golden Wood in both the tongues she knew.

tbc

(pen-neth - little one, young one)


	7. Conflict

~*~  
  
Again, thanks so much for reading and letting me know your thoughts. Keep reading, please! It gets better!!! Feedback is always appreciated!  
  
~*~  
  
Part 6 - Conflict  
  
By the time Haldir and Ferodir reached the archery field, Amarië was nowhere to be seen. Haldir had expected her to follow him and watch, as she had watched their swordplay, but she had not. He was disappointed, both with her and with himself for not making sure she knew that he desired her company. He had planned to offer her the use of a Galadhric bow after he finished his session with Ferodir. In fact, he had been looking forward to seeing the expression on her face when he handed it to her.  
  
"Why did she leave?" Ferodir asked in a curious voice.  
  
"I know not. Do you?" Haldir cast the dark-haired elf a probing look.  
  
"Nay, I only read thoughts by happenstance, not by choice, and rarely when it would be convenient. I knew only that she wished to wipe the blood from your face. Rather sweet, I thought it."  
  
Haldir made no comment. He was still amazed that she had done it, and even more by the fact that he had liked it so much. Under normal circumstances he did not allow anyone, male or female, to tend to his injuries, especially one so trivial as a bloodied nose. Yet he had actually enjoyed her looking after him as though he were unable to care for himself. He had taken pleasure in the touch of her fingers, in the careful way she had avoided pressing too hard as though she feared to hurt him. As though she cared about him. Perhaps he should not have said what he had regarding her sleeping habits. Tact was not one of his stronger attributes.  
  
He looked again at Ferodir. "How is it you were able to read her thoughts when you cannot speak her tongue?"  
  
"You forget, words are only one of an empath's tools. I also see images and feel emotions." Ferodir shrugged. "It only happens occasionally, and never for any obvious reason. In fact, I don't think I've ever picked up any of your thoughts. Sometimes I have felt your anger, but never its cause. And frankly that is fine with me."  
  
"Being an empath sounds more a curse than a blessing," Haldir remarked as he pulled an arrow from his quiver and set it into the nock. "I do not desire to have my thoughts read by you or anyone. It is disturbing enough when the Lady does it."  
  
"Do you think you should go after her?" Ferodir gazed off at the target in the distance.  
  
"After Amarië?" Haldir frowned, considering this. "I am not her keeper. Had she wished for my company, she would have remained here."  
  
Ferodir smiled. "Oh, come, you should know better than that. Ladies like to be pursued. Take my word for it."  
  
"Amarië is not like the ladies of your acquaintance. She would not thank me for hounding her steps."  
  
"Perhaps not. You know her better than I do." Ferodir glanced playfully at Haldir. "Have you had her?"  
  
The careless question caught Haldir by surprise. He lowered his bow, and turned to give the other elf a frowning look. "I do not think that is any of your concern," he said haughtily.  
  
"Of course it is not. I merely thought to observe your response, which reveals the answer to my question." Ferodir grinned. "You are sorely in need of the easing that only a lovely female can provide. Why do you not select another? There are many who would be only too glad to accommodate the handsome Captain of the Galadhrim."  
  
For an instant, Haldir considered the advice, and found the thought of taking any other female to his bed to be unexpectedly unpalatable. It was only Amarië he wanted. He knew this, only he was trying not to think about it. It was a thought he would definitely dwell upon all too much later, when he was alone.  
  
"Ferodir," he said with strained good humor, "are we going to have this contest between us or not? I am uninterested in discussing my personal needs with you."  
  
"Oh, certainly," the other elf agreed, his smile amiable. "Let us begin."  
  
#  
  
By the time Amarië reached her talan, she was beginning to feel a little foolish for getting so irate. Haldir had only been seeking to protect her, though who he sought to protect her from was unclear. If she were honest with herself, the idea that he had observed her unclad did not trouble her as much as she at first thought. Of course it was embarrassing, but it was her own fault, and when all was said and done, he had only been offering advice. Hadn't he?  
  
She shivered in the growing darkness, wondering how long he had looked at her, and just how much he had seen. A glimpse? Or much more? Had he found her pleasing? Did he think she was wanton, free with her favors? If he did, she could hardly blame him after the way she had behaved.  
  
A light tap on her door interrupted these unsettling thoughts. It was Lornarië, who had come to see if Amarië would care to bathe again. Amarië noticed that the tub had been refilled during her absence.  
  
"A simple spell will warm the water," the pretty blonde elf told her, adding with a smile, "So you are Lord Celeborn's granddaughter. Such a surprise, to hear this news. It certainly explains much."  
  
"I hope you are not angry that I did not tell you."  
  
"Nay, why should I be? We did not know each other, and still do not. I hope we will become friends. It is very pleasant to meet someone new."  
  
"I share that hope," Amarië said sincerely . "And yes, a bath would be most welcome."  
  
Lornarië went to the tub and murmured softly, stirring the water gently with the tips of her fingers. "There, it is warm now. While you were out, I put several more gowns in the wardrobe, gifts from the Lord and Lady. I hope you will find them to your liking. And here is a special, sweetly scented soap for your hair."  
  
Lornarië fussed over Amarië, assisted in the washing of her hair, then stepped back with a smile. "I will be back in a short while to help you dress for dinner. The Lady and Lord have requested that you dine with them."  
  
"Oh!" Amarië blinked, absorbing this. "Very well, but you will pamper me with so much attention. Believe me, I am unused to having anyone help me dress. Which reminds me, whatever became of my other clothes? The ones I arrived in?"  
  
"They have been washed and mended, Lady Amarië. I put them in your wardrobe just a short while ago. I trust you will not wear them to the dinner, however." With a smile and a fluttering wave of her hand, Lornarië flitted from the room.  
  
Amarië lay back in the shallow tub, wishing it were a little deeper. Lady Amarië, indeed. Already she was growing spoiled, she thought with a grimace. And how ridiculous to complain because her bare knees stuck up out of the water. Her eyes went to her thigh, where the Orc had slashed it. The wound had closed and looked much better, but she would doubtless have a nasty scar. It was regrettable, but it mattered not.  
  
Sighing, she shut her eyes. Despite her intention to relax, her thoughts drifted at once into unsafe channels, threatening to tumble the self-protective barriers she had been holding in place with no more than stubbornness and iron will. A kaleidoscope of images tumbled in her head- Haldir's lips pressed to hers, the flash of a scimitar, blood on his face, that boyish smile, his battle-hardened muscles beneath her palms, and that soft, sensual moan he had given when she had stroked the tip of his elven ear. That last was the most perilous memory at all, for it awoke in her an answering burn that was slowly consuming her from the inside out.  
  
Dangerous thoughts, madness to dwell on them. But what else could she do? It seemed she lacked the power to banish them. With a desolate sigh, she opened her eyes and climbed out of the tub, wrapping the white drying cloth around her torso. As she squeezed the water from her hair, another light tap on the door indicated the elf maiden's return.  
  
"Enter," Amarië called out, her back to the door. She heard the door open. "Your arrival is well-timed," she added, looking in vain for another drying cloth to use on her hair.  
  
"Indeed," Haldir answered, his voice amused. "I'm not sure I know how to take that."  
  
Amarië gasped and whirled around, clutching the cloth to her breasts. At best, its length covered her only to the top of her thighs. "You! What are you doing here?"  
  
He closed the door and leaned against it, his arms crossed over his solid chest. He was not actually smiling, but his eyes held a lazy glitter as they wandered over her. "I came to speak to you. Are you quite certain this is a good time?"  
  
"No, it is not, as you can very well see!" she said crossly. "You take delight in embarrassing me. I thought you were Lornarië."  
  
"Well, I am not." His eyes roved over her, lingering on her thigh. "I would heal that further so you do not have a scar."  
  
"What is wrong with a scar?" she demanded. "Why does it trouble you?"  
  
"It would be my choice to erase all traces of the evil creature that caused it. I would prefer to see only your smooth unmarred flesh."  
  
"You are presumptuous," she told him with a lifted chin. Then she sighed. "And yet you have a point, for I would erase the memory as well. You can do this for me?"  
  
"Yes." Haldir unfolded his arms, and took a step closer. "But I will have to touch you. Are you still angry with me?"  
  
"What makes you think I was angry?"  
  
"You left," he answered simply.  
  
She lowered her gaze, overcome with an unexpected, absurd shyness. "I am not angry now. What must I do?"  
  
"Sit down. I will do the rest."  
  
Hugging the drying cloth close to her body, Amarië went and sat on the edge of the bed. Haldir sat down beside her and placed his hand over the length of the wound. Immediately, she could feel a strong heat emanating from his palm. She kept her gaze on his hand as he began to murmur Elvish phrases, mysterious and archaic, perhaps from some early form of the language with which she was unfamiliar. Her skin tingled where he touched her-a different kind of tingling than the rest of her was experiencing just from feeling the pressure of his hand on her thigh. To sit there beside him, nearly naked, knowing that all he had to do was pull the cloth away, knowing she could do nothing to prevent him . . . it was all she could do to keep from jumping out of her skin. She bit her lip, her lashes lowered, feeling more vulnerable than she had ever felt in her life.  
  
Lornarië chose that moment to return, her arms laden with clean chemises and drying clothes. "Oh!" She stopped with one foot inside the room, her mouth hanging open.  
  
Haldir glanced at her. "I'm completing her healing so there will be no scar. You may enter."  
  
"Certainly, Haldir. I am glad you are seeing to it, for your skill goes far beyond mine. I told her I thought it should be done." Lornarië set the items on a chair, adding tactfully, "I'll be back in a few minutes. Or longer, if you like."  
  
Haldir rose to his feet. "There is no need for you to leave. I am finished here." He walked over to the door, then glanced back at Amarië as he opened it. "If you wish to speak to me, I will be at the base of the city, awaiting the arrival of my brothers."  
  
And he was gone.  
  
"Oh, I am sorry!" Lornarië exclaimed with a giggle. "If only I had not come in. You must be so annoyed with me."  
  
"I am greatly relieved you returned when you did," Amarië corrected in great embarrassment. "I do not even know why he came here. He never said."  
  
"Perhaps he will tell you later," Lornarië said with a grin, "since he took the trouble to tell you where you could find him."  
  
Amarië shrugged in a futile effort to be nonchalant. "Perhaps."  
  
#  
  
Haldir reached his chamber, shut the door, and leaned against it, exhaling a long, frustrated breath. Never in his life had he been so tempted to seduce a female. He could have done it, he knew. He was skilled in such matters. It would have been a simple matter to use that skill, to exercise his expertise in an area in which all elves excelled.  
  
Ever since he had learned of Amarië's elven blood, he had thought of nothing except that now he could allow himself to bed her. Very likely he would have done so if Lornarië had not shown up when she had. Once the healing had been completed, he would have kissed the soft skin beneath her beautiful hair, wrapped his arm around her slim waist, coaxed her down upon the bed, spreading kisses downward . . .  
  
Perhaps.  
  
Or perhaps not, for as much as he wanted her, he also did not want to risk hurting her. Why did she have this effect on him? Should he yield to it or fight it? He did not know which would be the wiser course of action.  
  
He would have to decide, and very soon, for his yearning for her had increased tenfold since this morning. Now that he had actually tasted her, touched her, felt her quiver in response . . . was there any turning back? Perhaps he should never have kissed her in the first place. It may well have been a grave mistake, one he would pay for in the days to come. He would not be suffering so much now if he had simply used his much-renowned self-restraint. How Rúmil and Orophin would have laughed.  
  
Shaking his head with self-disgust, he stripped off his clothes, and walked over to his own bathing tub, already filled and waiting for him as he had requested. Quickly, he heated the water to his liking and climbed in, prepared to relax before he had to meet with his brothers and the mortals. Surely they would arrive soon, although the transport of the wounded men would slow them down. It was unfortunate that humans healed so much more slowly than elves.  
  
Draping his long hair over the outside edge of the tub, he sank into the water, enjoying this rare chance to enjoy one of life's little pleasures. At the same time, it made him think of her again. At his age, he ought not to be thrown into such turmoil over a pretty face. He was unused to feeling such conflict within himself. Always he knew what he wanted. Always was he decisive, sure of himself and his instincts. Why should that change? Why was it different with Amarië?  
  
He had gone to her room to discover whether she was angry and whether he had given her just cause to feel so. As an excuse, he had been going to invite her to come and try that Galadhrim bow. If she had accepted his invitation, he had also thought to teach her a few words in Elvish, which would provide an opportunity for both education and pleasure. And then he had seen her wrapped in that tiny bit of cloth, and all else had flown from his mind . . . .  
  
With a grimace, he realized that he should have left the water cold; this line of thought was causing him considerable discomfort. He finished washing, dried himself and quickly dressed, this time exerting his accustomed self-discipline to subdue the result of his lustful thoughts. Then he strapped his sword to his waist, picked up his bow and quiver, and left the room. He would go and await the arrival of his brothers. Sooner or later, he had no doubt that Amarië would make an appearance. At least she would be wearing clothes.  
  
#  
  
The moon shone high in the sky by the time Rúmil and Orophin led the group into Caras Galadhon. The men were weary of travel, and the elves were weary of the men. Not that the humans had complained all that much, once Rúmil had managed to make them understand what was happening. The one called Ennis held some small kind of authority over the rest, though neither Rúmil nor Orophin could see that they were much in the habit of obedience.  
  
Thankfully, Haldir met them as they brought their ragged assembly of mortals to the designated meeting area. The men had taken turns carrying the litters, which they set down carefully and gently in the place they were directed. The two wounded men had made progress, and both still slept, thanks to elven enchantments that woke them only occasionally to see to basic needs.  
  
"You did well," Haldir told his brothers. "Any trouble?"  
  
"None to mention," Rúmil replied. "But that one," he nodded toward a large, burly fellow with a red beard, "has it in him to be a problem. I would watch him more closely than the others. The rest are fairly passive, like young sheep easily herded."  
  
"Why are they here?" Orophin asked. "That's what we all want to know." His gesture encompassed the other five elves they had chosen to accompany them.  
  
Haldir took in their selection with a slight frown, but made no comment. "They are here to be trained. We will spend the next few weeks teaching them basic warfare."  
  
Rúmil and Orophin stared at him, then at each other. "Basic warfare? In a few weeks?"  
  
Haldir scowled at them. "That is what I said. Do you question me?"  
  
Rúmil feigned a bow. "As your soldier, I do not, but as your brother . . ." He let out a laugh. "Have you lost your mind?"  
  
Orophin cleared his throat meaningfully. "Rúmil."  
  
Rúmil glanced at him. "Oh. I beg your pardon, Haldir. We do not question you."  
  
Haldir eyed them with growing suspicion. "Why do I not believe you?"  
  
Rúmil and Orophin gazed at him, saying nothing.  
  
"Why do you look at me like that?" Haldir demanded.  
  
"Are we looking at you?" Orophin asked innocently. "It is only that we have sorely missed your companionship."  
  
Haldir looked pained. "Ah, I understand. This is about your wager."  
  
"What wager?" Rúmil said quickly.  
  
"These men need rest," Orophin inserted. "Let us not discuss this now. You had better speak to them in their own tongue, Haldir, and set them at their ease."  
  
Haldir sighed, knowing that now was not the time to take his brothers to task for bandying Amarië's name about in a disrespectful fashion. He motioned to Ennis, saying, "Here is where you will take your rest. Food will be brought to you. As you see, there are comfortable recesses set into the roots of our great mellryn trees. You are safe here so do not feel you must keep your weapons close. Our borders are well-protected, and no one here will threaten you. You will, however, remain in this area. None of you are permitted to ascend the stairs of our city. All our training areas are on the ground level so this should not be an issue. Any questions?"  
  
"Yes. Where is my sister?" Ennis asked.  
  
Haldir favored the unfriendly young human with an assessing look. "To the best of my knowledge, she has been dining with Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel this evening. I expect she will be here presently to greet you."  
  
"She is well then?" His piercing blue eyes fixed hard on Haldir's face.  
  
"She is well," Haldir replied. He caught a movement off to his left, a shimmer of white that warned of her approach. "In fact," he added dryly, "she is here."  
  
#  
  
As Amarië descended the last of the steps, she realized that all eyes, elven and human, had shifted to watch her approach. All were silent, save for Ennis, whose eyes roved over her more critically than the rest.  
  
"Hail, sister," he said, walking toward her, his gaze scanning her rich clothing. "It seems you were successful in your mission, for here we all stand, deep in the heart of Lothlórien. I trust you had no difficulty?"  
  
She halted, knowing what question lay behind his words. "Nay, Ennis, none at all. How are the wounded men?"  
  
Ennis frowned. "Well enough, I think, though they are still entranced by spells."  
  
"You will rest now," Haldir said, stepping forward as though to intervene with this objection. "I have ordered food to be brought for any who wish it. Your wounded will continue to be tended. We will start your training early tomorrow."  
  
"Very well." Ennis seemed content, yet still he hesitated. "I would speak to my sister alone."  
  
Haldir nodded and walked away, motioning with his hand for the other elves to follow.  
  
Ennis gripped her arm, pulling her off to the side. "He accepted you then? This elf lord is truly your grandfather?"  
  
"Yes, he accepted me," she said. "I am being treated far better than I could ever have imagined."  
  
"What of that one?" he asked, motioning with his head in Haldir's direction. "He seems to have great authority here. That does not extend to you, I trust?"  
  
"Haldir has no authority over me unless it is when he is teaching me. You cannot imagine the level of his skill. All of us could learn so much from him, and doubtless from these others. You must be sure to take advantage of it, for I know not how long they will allow us to importune upon their hospitality."  
  
"Aye." Ennis sighed, then cast Haldir a rather worried look. "As long as his teachings to you do not extend beyond the archery range."  
  
"You must not speak like that," she countered, rather angrily. "What would you have me do? Spend the rest of my life alone? You know I belong not in the world of Men. These elves have accepted me. Eventually it is conceivable that one of them will want me, perhaps even love me, in a way I have not yet experienced. Do you expect me to turn that down?"  
  
He gazed at her, his eyes filled with dismay. "Nay, but you do not yet know their ways. I have always heard that elves are lusty and careless. Look at our mother. All my childhood she was distant, never herself, never whole. And all because of an elf."  
  
She heard his pain, but they had spoken of this many times before. "I will not discuss this with you now, Ennis, when you are weary."  
  
"You are right." He shoved his hand through his hair, his face etched with fatigue. "Then you will be here in the morning?"  
  
"I will be here," she assured him. "And all will be well. Good night, my dear. Rest well."  
  
She turned to go, nodding at the seventeen men still standing, watching her with dark and hungry eyes. Long had they been without their women, she realized. And none of them had ever really liked her very much.  
  
The large one with the red beard had always been the worst. A good fighter, with potential, but superstitious and wary of anything he deemed unnatural. He had always been the one most likely to mutter imprecations beneath his breath. Witch, he had often called her, though never within her brother's hearing.  
  
Not so now. Tonight his eyes crawled over her, and another word came from his mouth, very soft and menacing, yet it carried easily to her ears.  
  
Whore.  
  
#  
  
The jagged word echoed off the dim walls of her dreams, coiling around her throat, cutting her with its malice. They did not understand . . . how could they?  
  
No one knew.  
  
Bright soothing light, shining down upon her face, blinding her, pulling her to safety far beyond the dragon's bladed tooth.  
  
Where am I? Who is here with me?  
  
A hand upon her arm, tender and loving, a drop of sunshine spilling on her cheek.  
  
Cormamin lindua ele lle, a'maelamin tinuamin.  
  
This time she touched him, felt the warmth of his hand, lifted her fingers to his long, silken hair. So fair was he, her father. So fair and so beloved.  
  
You must come higher. Try.  
  
His hands drew her gently. They floated into colors, melting rainbows of sensation, rich in taste and hue. A little easier this time. So soft and sweetly scented.  
  
Another voice, familiar. Amarië, where are you?  
  
His soul bared, his pride lanced. Shadows, rising blood.  
  
The bladed tooth bit near.  
  
He will call to you. You must be ready. This is the only way.  
  
Silver sounds, a chiming in the distance. She could not go that far.  
  
Sapphire eyes, filling the infinite well of the horizon. I, too, will call you," she warns. Learn while you can and face your truth.  
  
Her father's lips upon her brow.  
  
Be strong. Hear my words. Here is the lesson . . .  
  
#  
  
Amarië awoke with a start. It was dark, clearly still the night, and the remnants of the dream yet lingered in her mind. The bladed tooth. It was all she could remember, but for some reason that small phrase frightened her.  
  
Before she could reflect upon it, she realized what had awakened her. Voices, blending in perfect harmony, creating a song of such haunting beauty it brought tears to her eyes. Slipping from between the sheets, she crossed the room and opened the door to stand outside upon the balcony. The song was exquisite, like poetry woven from the fabric of the stars.  
  
Listening closely, she began to pick out the elven words and realized that this was what Haldir had spoken of when they had discussed the burial of the five slain men. The sweet, clear voices sang a lament for the dead, honoring the mortal men in what she could only assume to be some sort of elven ritual or ceremony. The men should hear it from their position near the base of the trees. She hoped someone would tell them what it meant.  
  
Quite suddenly, she felt lonely and bereft. Without conscious intent, her gaze wandered upward toward the rooms she knew were his. All was dark. Was he there? Did he listen as she listened? Was he lying on his bed? Or did he stand motionless in the dark, gazing down at her with that finely tuned elven eyesight? Did he see her here, with her thin white nightgown fluttering in the cool night breeze?  
  
Did he think of her at all?  
  
Such a fancy! As though an elf of his rank and stature had nothing better to do with his time. Very likely he was resting or spending time with a friend. And yet the urge to go and see him was so strong, so potent, that she could literally feel her body tremble. What would he say if she went to him? Would he stretch out his arms and welcome her? Or would he frown at her, demand to know what she thought she was doing?  
  
She dared not go. Her spirit was still too fragile, too easily wounded. She would rather face a hundred Orcs than suffer another of Haldir's rejections.  
  
Knowing herself for a coward, she returned to her bed, but it was a long time before she found rest. Even her dreams left her alone.  
  
#  
  
In the morning, she donned the leggings and tunic she had arrived in and braided her hair, something she had not done for several days. The elegant clothing Galadriel had provided was inappropriate for training purposes, not to mention that it would inflame the negative attitude the men felt toward her. Since they had no idea why the elves had accepted her, or given her such garments to wear, they had without question arrived at the only other logical conclusion. They may not have had the courage to say it to Ennis, but she knew very well what they were saying and thinking about her. However, she told herself that she cared nothing for their good opinion. What mattered was that they learned the skills they needed, and returned to their people to make good use of those skills.  
  
When she reached the practice area, the men were already assembled. Haldir and his brothers were there, and five others, several of which she recognized from the battle with the Orcs. To her surprise, Ferodir had also shown up, though from his clothing, it did not appear that he would be participating. All turned and looked at her as she strode over the grass in their direction.  
  
Ignoring the stares, she went and stood by Ennis, curious to see how Haldir would organize matters. At this point in time, she was unsure whether she would be receiving training or giving it. Haldir had said she could help, but she did not know whether any of the men would heed her, especially in front of the elves. Never before had anyone but Ennis showed interest in learning from her, a mere woman. Though she had saved some of them from death during their journey, she knew very well that they resented it.  
  
Haldir began by breaking the men into groups to test their current level of skill, first with the bow, then the sword. Amarië was a little startled by the low murmurs of the elves while this occurred. Though they spoke softly, she could hear a few disparaging remarks concerning the men's abilities. Even Rúmil and Orophin seemed to find the mortals amusing, though they hid their amusement somewhat better than the rest. Few of the men performed well, suggesting that they were finding themselves intimidated by the tall, graceful elven archers who were so obviously their superiors.  
  
Haldir next divided them into groups. Ennis had performed better than any of them, and to her delight, Haldir decided to work with Ennis alone. The others were divided up among the other elves according to performance. To Amarië's surprise, Ferodir was assigned to work with her on her swordplay.  
  
Ferodir gave her a bow and smile. "I am unused to fighting anyone as lovely as you," he said, "and will consider it an honor." Of course he said it in Elvish, so she was forced to simply smile and look confused.  
  
No words were necessary for what Ferodir had in mind. He handed her a gleaming, razor-sharp scimitar and cocked a dark eyebrow in challenge. A little nervous, she gripped it tightly, hoping he would not use the full force of his formidable skill against her, yet eager to learn from one with such proficiency.  
  
She need not have worried, for although he was many times her superior in skill, his ability to instruct matched his ability to fight. As their swords flashed and clashed in a scraping of metal, Ferodir maintained a fine line between challenging her and treating her with gallantry. At least three times his scimitar should have sliced her open, but each time his quick reflexes and controlled strength halted the progression of his blade. Each time, he gave her one of his rakish grins and then resumed, giving her still more opportunities to learn under his expert tutelage. Never had she enjoyed fighting with swords as much as she did this day, even though her weapon did not once come close to cutting even a single thread in Ferodir's ornate tunic.  
  
Eventually, she began to tire, the effort of holding the sword loosely enough to control her swings causing them to become erratic. She saw Ferodir smile as he lunged forward; she raised her sword to block, but her aching arm went numb from the force of his stroke. She staggered back, almost falling, her breath coming in great gasps. Clearly enjoying himself, Ferodir pursued, his weapon whirling toward her more quickly than it had before. She swung the scimitar in a rapid parry, but it went wide, missing him as the force of her swing spun her around. Again, she stumbled, this time tumbling to the ground. Playfully, the dark-haired elf put the tip of his weapon under her chin, an inch from her throat.  
  
"Do you yield to me, sweet lady?" he asked, laughing softly.  
  
The bladed tooth.  
  
Without warning, the frightening phrase blasted through her mind, wiping the answering smile from her face.  
  
Ferodir gave her a peculiar look. Lowering his weapon, he stepped back, and with a gesture indicated that it was time to pause and rest. Yet he continued to watch her, his brilliant blue eyes fixed on her face as if he found her fascinating.  
  
She shook her head and rose, trying to remove the disturbing words from her mind. What did they mean? And why did that phrase come to her just at this moment?  
  
Ignoring Ferodir, she returned her attention to the elves and men, and realized that the joking had escalated. Dismayed, she approached the nearest group of elves, eavesdropping on the conversation the humans could not understand.  
  
"That one," murmured one elf, "is so slow that I could compose a poem in the time it takes for him to swing his sword."  
  
"They are all slow and stupid," another scoffed. "The red-haired one is like a great bull, raging and clumsy, with a brain the size of a pebble. Our skill is wasted on him."  
  
"Wasted on all of them. They can barely move their feet."  
  
"They move like ents," chortled another, a remark greeted by elvish snickering.  
  
And so it went. She moved on to the second group, which included Rúmil and Orophin. At the moment Rúmil was working with the youngest of the men, an eighteen-year-old named Angus, an apprentice to a blacksmith. His face was red and sweaty, but he was trying very hard to keep up with Rúmil. To his credit, Rúmil was not smiling, and seemed to be attempting to take the young man seriously. But just when she decided this, Angus slipped and fell backward to land on his rump, and Rúmil's mouth betrayed him.  
  
The third group stood a short distance away on the archery range. Three elves were attempting to have the men hit some of the closer targets. She knew for a fact that three of these men had never touched a bow, for each preferred close-range combat with a sword. One of the elves had turned away, occupied with laughter so great his shoulders shook. The mouths of the other two were twitching in obvious amusement as they tried to show the poor man how to stand and hold the arrow.  
  
Anger swelled in her chest, an anger so great she could scarcely contain it. She would speak to Haldir! He would know what to do, what to say, to make his soldiers take this seriously. She stalked over in the March Warden's direction, but he and Ennis were engaged, their swords clashing as they circled each other. Ennis appeared to be holding his own, she noticed proudly. This was no time to interrupt.  
  
Frustrated, she walked back toward Ferodir, who stood watching her with his arms crossed over his chest. His gaze was speculative and faintly ironic, almost as though he knew what was going on in her head. She frowned at him, then started to pace, paying closer heed to the nearest group of elves.  
  
This was turning into a farce! Even the men realized they were being mocked, even without understanding the words. The elves were joking amongst themselves, making insulting wagers and jests while the men struggled to keep up with them. Haldir did not yet realize what was going on. Granted, she was pleased he was spending time with Ennis, explaining to her brother exactly what he needed to do to develop his skill while patiently demonstrating the various techniques. But still-!  
  
Her temper hanging by a thread, she returned to where Rúmil and Orophin stood, watching a third elf work with one of the other men, a slender fellow named Aden, who until recently had been a farmer by profession. Right now poor Aden looked miserable and embarrassed as he attempted to acquit himself with his dignity intact.  
  
"Come on, mortal," taunted the elf, "are you asleep? Wake up and fight! Ah, you fight like a child."  
  
Fury swept through Amarië. This had to stop! If Haldir was not going to do it, then she would. This charade had gone on long enough!  
  
She squared her shoulders and for some reason looked at Ferodir. His expression was inscrutable, but his eyes gleamed. She looked away and took a deep breath.  
  
"Daro!" she shouted in her loudest voice.  
  
All activity came to a dead halt.  
  
She gazed around at their startled faces, but did not dare to look at Haldir.  
  
In fluent Elvish, she continued, "You sons of Orcs, you ought to be ashamed of yourselves! This is no laughing matter!" She pointed an accusing finger at the nearest elf. "You joke and jest and think yourselves so amusing, but you are not! To these men, this is a life and death affair! Many of them have seen their families slaughtered, their crops and homes destroyed!"  
  
She turned to Rúmil, glaring at him. "That boy who amused you so much, he came home one day to find his mother slain, his young sister raped and left for dead. He found his father's head set upon a pike in a nearby field. Does this amuse you? Does it?"  
  
Dimly, she knew her voice had grown shrill and that she was shaking from head to foot. Still they looked at her, all those beautiful elves, but shock had now replaced the laughter in their eyes. Even the men looked shocked.  
  
"Amarië, calm yourself." It was Ennis who spoke.  
  
But it was not Ennis's hand that caught her arm in an iron grip.  
  
"Come with me now and do not argue." The command was uttered in Elvish, the voice like winter ice.  
  
She risked a glance at Haldir's face and knew at once the scale of his anger. Her throat tightened with the knowledge that he was at least as furious as she had been, perhaps much more, and that fury was aimed at her.  
  
And she was suddenly afraid.  
  
[FEEDBACK GREATLY APPRECIATED] 


	8. Discord

**Part 7 – Discord**

Amarië gasped as he dragged her across the grass, his fingers digging into her flesh all the way to the bone. Humiliated and frightened, she tried to pull away, but to no avail. This was not the Haldir who had kissed her or healed her leg of its wound. This was the Marchwarden of the Lothlórien, the Captain of the Galadhrim, an Elf of rank and power who tolerated no disobedience or defiance from his underlings. This was the Elf she had seen in the battle with the Orcs, the one who killed deliberately and without compunction.

"Amarië!" she heard Ennis bellow from behind them. She cast a glance over her shoulder and saw her brother struggling to follow, though Rúmil and Orophin were physically restraining him from doing so. Eru help him if he tried to challenge Haldir right now. In his present mood, the Marchwarden would swat her brother down like an insect, probably with one hand. Still, she would not give Haldir the satisfaction of seeing her fear.

"Unhand me at once!" she demanded, injecting imperiousness into her tone. "You are hurting me!"

He ignored her completely, but instead increased their pace, forcing her to walk faster away from the practice area. His mouth was clenched in a hard line, his eyes fixed straight ahead, as though he could not look at her.

Her apprehension mounted. "Where are you taking me? Answer me, Haldir!"

Still no reply, but they had reached one of the winding staircases that led upwards into the city. Again, she tried to squirm away, this time using her full weight to sag away from him, but he yanked her to her feet.

"You will walk beside me, Amarië, or I will put you over my shoulder as I did before. I do not intend to speak to you here, out in the open. Will you walk or do I have to carry you? What is your choice?" His tone made it clear that there would be no negotiation.

She glared at him, her insides quaking. "I will walk," she said coldly, "but you need not hold on to me."

"Oh, I think I do," he retorted. "I don't trust you to do as you say."

Affronted, she opened her mouth to argue, then changed her mind. She had a great deal to say to him as well, but he was right; this was not the place to do it.

His fingers remained clamped around her upper arm as they mounted the stairs, but at least they no longer caused her pain. Her initial fear was beginning to fade; after all, what could he do to her? It seemed he only meant to take her to task for her failure to reveal her knowledge of his language. Perhaps by the time they reached wherever they were going, he would be calm and reasonable, which would give her an opportunity to take him to task for his mismanagement of his soldiers.

She risked another peek at his face, and decided she was wrong. He was not going to be calm and reasonable, at least not any time soon. Her stomach clenched with nervousness, but she shoved it aside with impatience. A part of her still boiled with anger at what had just transpired between the Elves and men. She did not care what he did or said; she would have her say. It was not likely that he would beat her, but if he did, it would not be the first time in her life. A beating was unpleasant, but it was something she had endured and survived.

They continued mounting steps until they reached the talan where her room was located, their evident destination. Reaching her door, he flung it open and none too gently propelled her inside. She stumbled a little, then turned, facing him with what she hoped appeared to be dignified composure. Despite the pain in her arm, she resisted the urge to rub where he had bruised it.

He shut the door, and looked at her, the lines of his face forbidding. She had never seen his gray eyes so cold, so aloof. It chilled her, that look, so different from the day before when his gaze had been so appreciative, so affable. Something inside her shrank with despair at the realization that he might never again look at her with warmth. Was her deception truly so dreadful? What should she say?

"I see I have angered you," she stated bravely, as he started to walk toward her.

"How observant of you." His tone was caustic.

She lifted her chin and took a tiny step backward. "I can understand that you would be annoyed that I did not tell you I spoke your tongue . . . ."

"Annoyed," he repeated, his voice dangerously soft. "Annoyed is too mild a word for what I feel."

He took another step closer, and she automatically retreated.

"Why do you withdraw? Are you frightened of me?"

She moistened her lips. "No," she lied. "Of course not."

"You should be," he informed her, his gaze raking over her. "My wrath is not easily aroused. Were I to give in to my inclinations as you did to yours, you would be feeling the sting of my hand across your backside right now. Push me further, and it may yet happen."

The very idea made her flush. "I'm not sure what I have done that would warrant such treatment!" she said indignantly.

"Then allow me to tell you," he said, his voice lashing her like a whip. "First, you lied to me, after I asked you not to do so, thus betraying my trust in you."

"I did not lie! You never asked me if I spoke your tongue!"

"A deliberate deception. I spoke of it, and you said nothing. By elven standards, that is a lie. Once more you have made me look a fool, Amarië, and that is one time more than I will permit. Even worse, you have played your game with us all, betrayed everyone's trust. And that is only one of your transgressions," he added, his voice slicing her with its edge.

Despite her resolve to stand her ground, she found herself taking another step backward, only to bump against the wall. "The least of it? You speak in riddles. What else did I do?"

He stopped directly in front of her, placing a hand on either side of her so that she was quite effectively trapped between the wall and his body. "No one, I repeat no one, has ever dared to usurp my authority the way you just did. Even my brothers would not dare to behave so. Do you think me blind and deaf? Do you think me incompetent? I saw what was going on! I had every intention of dealing with the problem on my own terms and at the time of my choosing."

"Well, I had no way of knowing that!" she fired back.

His eyes blazed with sudden fury. "No? My title and position do not suggest that I might know what I am doing? Do you know how old I am? Do you know how long I have held my position as Marchwarden?"

She shook her head, feeling a little sick.

"Nor do you want to know, for it would be beyond your comprehension. Yes, my Elves behaved poorly, and they will answer for it, but your behavior was inexcusable. This is not how things are conducted here in Caras Galadhon. You have much to learn, young half-Elf, and I suggest you start learning them before you make yourself completely unwelcome here."

"For your information, I think you are forgetting that—"

"Oh, I know," he cut in mockingly. "Lord Celeborn is your grandfather and you have rank here. But do not try to pull rank on me, Lady Amarië. I warn you, in an elven civilization, deeds and actions speak far louder than lineage. You have lost much respect today. You will have to work hard to regain it."

She clenched her teeth. "—you are forgetting that I have a responsibility to those men down there. The deeds and actions of your soldiers do your so-called superior civilization no credit. Is it a common practice among Elves to torment and tease those with lesser skill? At least my people were trying their best! They did nothing to deserve such treatment! I do not say you are incompetent, but you should have done something about it immediately."

"With the exception of your brother, your loyalty is wasted on those men you call your people. Do you know they call you a whore?" He spoke this last word in the common tongue, as though there was no Elvish equivalent.

Despite her effort to control her emotions, she could feel her whole body jerk in reaction. "You're being deliberately cruel."

"No, I'm being deliberately honest," he retorted, his tone callous. "Something you may not be too familiar with."

Stung to the quick, she tried to slap him, but he was too fast. With lightning speed his hands clamped to her wrists, pinning them to the wall on either side of her head. "If you ever strike me, it will only be because I let you," he informed her, his voice silky with warning. "Today will not be that day. You have made too many demands upon my kind heart of late."

"Your heart is not so kind at the moment," she said bitterly. "You are hurting me again. Right at this moment, I find you despicable, Haldir of Lórien."

Something changed in his face, as though she had just crossed some line with him that she had not intended. "And if I let you go, what will you do? Use your tricks on me again? Try to manipulate me with your body? Perhaps next time I will allow it. You might like that."

It was too much to bear; the pain in her chest became unbearable. "Go away," she whispered, a lump in her throat. "I hate you."

He released her quite abruptly, stepping away with a small, derisive laugh. "Hate is a strong emotion, Amarië. Is that truly what you feel? I assure you I do not hate you in return." He walked over to the door. "Do not come to the training field again until I give you leave. If you flout me in this, you will regret it."

"And how am I to practice?" she asked, unconsciously rubbing her wrists.

"You will not. Nor will you be given a bow of the Galadhrim as I had intended. You have not earned the right to use it."

xxx

Haldir strode away from Amarië's room with his temper flaring higher than it had in an age. In fact, he could not remember that he had ever been so angry. Was that even the right word for what he felt? The simple word lacked dimension. His emotions were so intense, so convoluted and alien, that in truth he could put no name to them. Nor would he try. He would not waste another thought on that ungrateful, deceitful female!

Galadriel and Celeborn had known that she spoke Elvish, he now realized. That is what they had been hinting at in their usual oblique manner. And as Galadriel had reminded him, Amarië was very young. She had no way of knowing proper behavior; she had not been brought up among the Elves. He had been very hard on her. Perhaps too hard. Yet she spoke their language! How had she learned? There was far more to this story than he knew, more than she had seen fit to reveal. More deceit, more trickery! He would have no part of it. His scowl deepened as he recalled the accusations she had hurled at him. His rage returned, full-force. She deserved to be treated harshly!

He reached the base of the city without meeting anyone he was forced to pause and speak to, but his luck ran out the moment he stepped upon the forest floor. Ferodir was waiting for him, leaning casually against the nearest mellyrn tree as though he had nothing else to do but seek his leisure. However, for once the empath was not smiling, and even looked uncommonly serious.

"You're unhappy," the dark-haired Elf stated, pushing away from the tree.

Haldir paused, regarding his friend sardonically. "You can tell that, can you? You surpass yourself."

Ferodir sketched a bow. "I aim to please," he said, his tone agreeable. "And I can't say I blame you for losing your temper. No more than I can blame Amarië for losing hers."

"No?" Haldir snapped. "Well, I can!"

Still seething, he started to walk away, then turned suddenly, and let loose. "She does not deserve the consideration I have given her! She is ungrateful, untrustworthy, impertinent, quick-tempered, stubborn, deceitful, irrational, foolish . . . " He halted, searching for any other words that might ease his mind with their utterance.

"In short, everything you despise," Ferodir added helpfully.

"Indeed, you have the right of it."

"So why are you unhappy? You have discovered all these fine truths. You have penetrated her secrets. You should be glad for the knowledge."

"I am glad," Haldir assured him emphatically. "More glad than you can know."

"Why? Because you were so close to giving her your heart?"

Haldir laughed scornfully. "My heart? That is an ill-considered joke. All I have given or intended to give was my time and patience. But that has ended."

"I am very glad to hear it."

Haldir nodded, started to walk away once more, then stopped abruptly. "Why do I have the feeling your words hold hidden meaning?"

"I did not intend for my meaning to be hidden. To put it plainly, I am glad because I fancy her myself."

Haldir felt himself grow tense. He opened his mouth to object, then shut it again and clenched his teeth together. "I care not. I have no claim on her." The words were strangely hard to say. "She will lead you a merry dance," he added sourly.

Ferodir's smile widened. "Ah, but you forget how well I dance."

"Then I am surprised you feared to step on my toes. You are not always so considerate."

Ferodir watched Haldir stalk away, his eyes narrowed as he tried in vain to pick up his thoughts. But already the arrogant Elf had erected his internal shields, making it too difficult for Ferodir to reach into his mind. He had quite enjoyed baiting the Marchwarden, an Elf he admired and whose friendship he greatly valued. Still, friendship and loyalty did not prohibit a bit of teasing now and then. Unfortunately, his teasing had not accomplished either of his goals—to lighten Haldir's mood or to help him change his views regarding Amarië. It did not take an empath to see that Haldir suffered. His pride was wounded, and very possibly his heart as well. What to do?

Ferodir sighed. His empathic abilities were so capricious, so unreliable. The Valar had granted him this gift, and only they had the power to modify its strength, which they occasionally did at the most unexpected of moments. For some unknown reason, he had been able to read Amarië from the moment that strange phrase had come into her mind, and in Elvish, no less! To find Elvish words floating in her mind had astonished him.

The bladed tooth. What could it mean?

Shaking his head, he headed for the nearest set of winding stairs. Galadriel was waiting. He expected she would be very interested in what he had to report.

xxx

Amarië lay upon her bed, but she did not weep. Perversely, she kept the ache locked inside, as if its release would bring an admission too painful to accept. She stared at the ceiling with its intricate carvings, painted to look like mellyrn leaves intermingled with pale niphredil. If only she had someone to talk to, but who? Not Lornarië. She was pleasant, but too enamored with the Marchwarden to be sympathetic. Ennis? Nay, he would be training still; at least she hoped he was. Lord Celeborn? She did not dare approach him on her own, at least not yet. And Galadriel was out of the question.

Hours had passed since Haldir had dragged her into this room. No one had come. Did everyone in Caras Galadhon already know what had occurred? Was she in disgrace? Or did they leave her alone to be polite? After all, not all Elves were rude and thoughtless. But perhaps what she had done had put her so far beyond the pale that even the most generous shunned her company. Had she come so close to finding a place to call home only to throw it away? A sob rose in her throat, but she subdued it as she had subdued all the others that had tried to fight their way to the surface.

A knock upon the door roused her from these thoughts. She lifted her head from the pillow, listlessly wondering if it might be better to ignore whoever stood there. But this seemed foolish, and so she rose and went to see.

To her surprise, her visitor was none other than Ferodir. "Greetings, Lady Amarië," he said, making his usual courtly bow. "May I come in?"

She hesitated for an instant, but could think of no good reason to deny him. At least he was a friendly face. "Yes, of course." She stepped aside.

He swept into the room like a monarch, dwarfing everything in it with his vibrant presence. His gaze took in his surroundings, including the tunic and leggings she had worn this morning, discarded in the corner where she had hurled them. "You sound unsure. Do not tell me that I have somehow lost your good opinion."

"Nay, I would rather expect that I had lost yours."

"On the contrary, my opinion of you has elevated." He laughed at her expression. "Unlike many, I appreciate surprises. And your knowledge of the Elvish tongue was quite a large one. As was your method of revealing it."

Embarrassed, she looked away. "That was a mistake on my part. A rather bad one, I fear."

"Even the oldest and wisest of us make mistakes," he pointed out. "In any case, I am delighted we can carry on a real conversation."

She turned to look at him, her attention caught by the non-judgmental delivery of his statements. He really was extraordinarily attractive. Long, dark brown hair framed a face that seemed flawlessly beautiful, unless the slight aquiline curve of his nose could be considered an imperfection. His eyes were the clearest, brightest blue she had ever seen, and in fact reminded her of Galadriel's. His mouth was firm and strong, and seemed to wear a perpetual, rather rakish slant at the corners, as if everything he saw amused him in some secret way. Like the other Elves, he was tall, graceful, and elegant, and had probably broken many hearts—though he would not break hers.

"You are not a Lothlórien Elf, are you?" she asked, then hearing her own question, flushed. "Forgive me. Perhaps that is a rude question. I am beginning to realize how little I know about elven etiquette."

He gave her one his wicked little smiles. "It's unlikely you could say anything that would offend me, my dear. I am not easily shocked. And to answer your question, I am only one-half Lothlórien Elf. My sire resides in Rivendell, and he is also dark of hair. But I did not come here to talk of me."

"Why did you come?" she asked him frankly.

"A just question. I came to offer you my escort. I thought you might want to see your brother."

"Haldir has forbidden me from visiting the training grounds." She hoped he did not notice the slight tremor in her voice. If he did, he gave no sign.

"Training has finished for the day. He did not say you could not visit your brother, did he?"

She shook her head.

"I doubt our Marchwarden will even be there at this time. And I rather fancy you would like to see young Ennis, if only to assure yourself that he survived the day without you. Am I correct?"

"Yes, indeed you are," she answered gratefully. "And I would be most glad of your company. I have been feeling very cowardly since this morning."

He offered her his arm, which she accepted with her first smile of the day.

"I feel I should warn you though," he added as they left her room, "because I always play fair. I mean to enjoy your company to the fullest."

"And what does that mean?" She wondered if he was trying to flirt.

He nodded, the corner his mouth curling. "It means beware. It means you can trust me just a little, but not too much."

xxx

Haldir left the training ground later than expected. He had spent the entire afternoon working with the humans on their swordplay, and it had sorely tried his patience so at the end of it, he had rewarded himself with some relaxing archery practice. As for Ennis, he had had Orophin work with him for the remainder of the day, since the young cub had done nothing but glower blackly at Haldir since he had returned from dealing with Amarië. Ennis had tried to speak to him, but Haldir had ordered him to return to his practice, and Amarië's brother had complied with a look that told him that some sort of confrontation lay ahead.

Haldir had spoken severely to his Elves regarding their conduct. It had been a stern, terse speech of the quality that he seldom had to make, but it had been sufficient. The faces of his soldiers were serious now. There were no more wagers, no more pranks, no more laughter or jests. However, Haldir could not help but wonder how much of the change was due to his reprimand, and how much due to Amarië's revelations about the killing of the humans' neighbors and families. Unlike Haldir, most of the Elves had never left Lothlórien, and therefore had no real understanding of the evil threatening those that resided in other parts in Middle Earth. It did them no harm to learn.

His feet soundlessly flattened fallen mellyrn leaves as he passed the area where the humans made their encampment. The men were settled in various places, recovering from their exertions of the day. He did not see Ennis, a fact that at once put his senses on high alert. He kept walking, his gaze straight ahead, but he knew very well when, a minute later, Amarië's brother stepped out of the shadows behind him.

He expected a sudden rush, an attack meant to catch him off-guard, but instead Ennis called out to him, his voice low and resolute. "Marchwarden! A moment of your time, if you please."

So the cub had principles, did he? Or perhaps he was simply not stupid. Haldir turned and studied him, taking in the young man's determined, rather pugnacious expression. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked resignedly.

"You know why I follow you?" Ennis demanded, looking pale.

"You wish to fight me."

"I wish to challenge you! I take offense at your treatment of my sister this morning. You owe her an apology, and you owe me a chance to defend her honor."

Haldir frowned. "Her honor was not in question. Only her judgment."

"Even so." Ennis drew his sword. "Will you grant me the right to do as I feel I must?"

"You are not yet ready to challenge me with a sword. You know this."

"I will take my chances."

Haldir sighed. So foolish these humans were. "Put aside your weapons, and I will put aside mine. I will fight you unarmed. Will that satisfy you?"

Ennis stared at him for a long moment, then nodded. "Aye. But before we start, I would know what you did to her. Where is she? Why did she not return?"

Haldir unbuckled his belt and sword from his waist, then removed his bow and quiver. "I took her to her room, where we exchanged words. I know not where she is at the moment. She did not return because I forbade it. She is not a prisoner," he added dryly.

"This is the truth?" Ennis's blue eyes drilled into him.

"You have my word." Haldir returned the look. "Do you trust the word of an Elf?"

Several seconds passed. "Aye, I'm beginning to think that I do."

xxx

Amarië descended the many steps that led to the forest floor, her arm linked with Ferodir's. She was thankful that she had changed out of her training attire, and did not know if she would ever be able to wear those clothes again without remembering the scene that had taken place. Even now she could not think of it without flinching inwardly.

They had reached the base of the city, and walked only a short distance when the unmistakable sounds of combat reached her ears. Ferodir released her at once and drew his sword; they both hurried forward, rounded the base of a huge mellyrn tree, and came upon Haldir and Ennis, grappling with each other with savage ferocity as they rolled and tussled on the ground. Blood trickled from a cut on her brother's lip, and one of his eyes was swelling.

"Ennis!" She started to hurl herself forward, but Ferodir's scimitar thumped to the ground, and a strong pair of arms held her fast.

"Leave them be," Ferodir instructed in her ear. "Let them fight."

"No! He'll hurt him!" She tried to twist away, and out of old habit more than conscious intent, she lifted her knee in the direction of Ferodir's groin.

Of course, he was too quick for that. "Oh, no you don't," he said, capturing her wrists with a chuckle. "Little warrior." He spun her around, pulling her against him so that her back pressed against his chest, then crossed her arms under her bosom so that his arms also wrapped securely around her. The position thrust her breasts against the rounded neckline of her gown.

"Don't fight me, Amarië. I'm not going to let you go until they finish. Don't you think you've caused enough trouble for one day?"

She struggled to free herself. "Release me at once, Ferodir!"

"Not a chance. Besides, I'm enjoying the view."

Angered by his boldness, she continued to wriggle until, all at once, she noticed a growing stiffness pressed against her backside. Instantly, she ceased her movements.

"Very sensible," he murmured, a laugh in his voice. "That is one of the few things Elves and men have in common. I hope you take it as a compliment."

Amarië did not dignify this with a reply, but instead took in the appalling sight of Haldir's fist crashing into her brother's chin. "He's going to kill him," she moaned.

Ferodir rubbed his cheek against her hair. "Come now, I thought you wiser than that. Haldir merely gives your brother what he wants. He is doing him a favor."

"A favor," she echoed angrily. "How can you call it that? What do you know of favors?"

"A great deal, actually," he whispered. "I know I'd like to have your favors. Unfortunately you aren't meant for me so I fear this will have to be our closest encounter. A touch frustrating for me, but I am well aware you won't mind." He shifted his body so the intimate contact was lost.

She turned her head to glare at him. "How can you behave so at a time like this?"  
"Hush and look. Your brother just landed a blow on Haldir's face. Ha, he's bleeding from the nose again. That should please you."

Quickly, she glanced around, her eyes widening in unexpected shock. It did seem as though Ennis had somehow attained the upper hand. Forgetting Ferodir completely, Amarië winced as Ennis slammed punch after punch into Haldir. Abruptly, her concern shifted to the Marchwarden. What was wrong with him? Had some injury occurred that impeded his ability to defend himself? An unexplained numbness gripped her. Why did it hurt her so much to see him hurt? After the way he had treated her, she should be glad, but instead every muscle in her body had gone rigid with dread. All she could see was Haldir's blood . . . blood . . . What was happening? 

"Haldir is being generous," Ferodir explained, squeezing her arm in an oddly comforting manner. "If yon cockerel attacked me, I would not go so easy on him. Our Marchwarden is allowing him to work off some of that youthful energy and rage, and to keep his dignity as well. Ah, that's it then. Haldir's patience wears thin."

Indeed, the upper hand had shifted yet again, for Haldir now held Ennis in a headlock. It was over; Ennis yielded with apparent good humor, and was released.

Both Elf and man were filthy, bloodied, scraped and bruised, but neither exhibited any outward sign of discomfort. Ennis actually grinned and offered his hand, which Haldir accepted, albeit without a smile, and with characteristic elven restraint.

Amarië shook her head, hardly noticing that Ferodir now stood a small distance away. She could barely take it in. Her head ached and her mouth was dry. Trembling, she hovered at the brink of sinking to her knees and bursting into tears. And she did not know why.

At that moment, Ennis turned toward Ferodir and scowled. Evidently, he had seen the way Ferodir had held her against her will.

Ferodir turned his back on Ennis. "Tell him not to even think about it," he said, casually bending over to retrieve his sword from where he had dropped it. "I have not Haldir's patience with hotheaded young mortals." With those words, Ferodir touched her gently on the arm and sauntered off, leaving her alone with her brother and Haldir.

xxx

Haldir was in a foul mood. Although he would heal quickly, the blows he had accepted had hurt, and he enjoyed pain no more than the next person. Avoiding Amarië's gaze, he bent down and retrieved his weapons, resisting the urge to spit out the blood in his mouth. He did not want to see what emotion lay in her eyes, for he imagined he would see disgust, and just now he did not think he could endure it. Slinging his quiver and bow over his shoulder, he ambled off without a backward glance, though it took all his willpower not to turn and look at her as he passed.

He ached, inside and out. Truth to tell, all he wanted at the moment was to be alone, to heal himself, to wash, and to rest and think. Unfortunately, Ferodir was waiting for him when he reached the stairs.

Haldir made no effort to hide his displeasure. "You move fast," he said, and tried to step past the other Elf, but Ferodir did not take the hint.

"I do my poor best," Ferodir replied with his usual mischief. "That was quite a show you put on. And for whose benefit?"

"I know not what you mean." Haldir quickened his steps, but Ferodir kept pace.

"I mean I have never seen you so accommodating. Letting that young mortal thrash you like that. Was it for his sake or hers?"

Haldir grimaced. "Both, as I'm sure you know. It will make things easier."

"She was very worried about you. I thought you'd like to know."

"Was she?" Haldir kept his voice cold.

"I explained to her that you were merely being kind. I don't think she was impressed."

Haldir's jaw tightened.

"Well, I see you do not want my company. Then I shall bid you good evening. I'm off to dine with Lornarië. Any messages? You know how she adores you."

Recognizing Ferodir's veiled meaning, Haldir did not hesitate. "No. No messages."

xxx

Ferodir stood before Galadriel for the second time that day, relating recent events. "And there you have the sum of it, my lady," he finished with deep respect. "I fear things go no better than before."

"They are both headstrong and proud," she said in a reflective voice. "You have done all you can for now, Ferodir. As always, you teach with subtlety. Your lessons will need time to work their magic."

"You are generous to pardon the mischief that I cause in equal part."

"Nay, your mischief does no harm. You are as you are, Ferodir." She smiled, a hint of laughter sparkling in her lovely eyes. "And your own time is fast approaching."

"My time, my lady?" Ferodir lifted his brows in confusion.

She did not enlighten him as to her meaning. "How can I repay you for this day's service?"

"I need no payment, my lady. It was a pleasure. In any case, to gaze upon your beauty is sufficient reward."

Galadriel laughed. "Your humor brings great healing to this world. That, Ferodir, is a priceless gift. The Valar have blessed us all with your presence."

Ferodir bowed again, and took his leave, unable to shake the uneasy feeling that she knew something he did not. Something extremely interesting to him personally.

He could not imagine what it could be.

tbc


	9. Connections

**Part 8 – Connections**

Amarië stood at the very top of the city, the place where Lord Celeborn had taken her to find Haldir a little over a week before, the place where Haldir had kissed her. As usual, she'd found the flet empty when she arrived. Each evening she came here, half-hoping and half-afraid she'd find him standing as she remembered, tall and proud, with his beautiful pale hair blowing in the breeze. But it seemed he no longer came here anymore. Was it because he knew she came here too?

She stood precisely where he had stood, and gazed out upon the same view that he had looked upon, though it was dark and veiled to her sight. A week had passed since Ennis and Haldir had fought, and it had been the longest week of her life. Each day she woke with the hope that Haldir would send for her, and give her permission to return to the practice field. Each night she went to sleep hoping he would knock upon her door and tell her that he was no longer angry. But it had not happened, and she was too proud and too afraid to go to him.

At the end of each day, Ferodir had escorted her down to see Ennis, but she had only seen Haldir twice, and each time he had barely glanced her way. According to Ferodir, all the men had made considerable progress on their skills, particularly Ennis. She also knew that Ennis truly believed that he had successfully scored points over Haldir during their fight, and this had apparently added to his self-confidence.

Was that what Haldir had intended? Since he had gone to all the pain and trouble to let Ennis hit him, he clearly had a motive—even though she could not appreciate it. Ferodir's explanation had seemed absurd to her. Why should Haldir wish to reinforce Ennis's dignity? And even if Ennis had been itching to fight the Marchwarden from the moment he set eyes on him, why would Haldir have granted that wish? Especially when he so scorned Ennis and the rest of the men.

But perhaps she misjudged the Marchwarden. Based on things Ferodir had told her, Haldir possessed a complexity she might never understand. The Guardian of Lórien must have much more on his mind than her or Ennis. According to Ferodir, ever since the Fellowship had passed through Lothlórien, Haldir had been unusually somber. She did not know much about the Fellowship except that there was a ring of power involved. To Haldir, she must seem unimportant compared to such as this.

Her thoughts returned to the evening of the fight. Before she had taken leave of Ennis, one of the elven bowmen had approached to offer her brother assistance with his healing. After a brief hesitation, Ennis had declined, but she could tell he was rethinking some of his former views about Elves. This was something to be thankful for, at least. She, on the other hand, had not recovered at all, but there was nothing anyone could do to help her. All she knew was that her heart had ached more this past week than at any other time in her life thus far, even taking into account some of the horrendous events she had witnessed, or even her tumultuous childhood.

All her life she had tried to be strong, to hold her troubles close rather than share her burdens with another. During her early years, while her stepfather had worked so hard to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table, she had often suffered beatings at her mother's hands. It seemed she reminded her mother a little too much of her elven father, something her mother had often found unendurable. Amarië had never told her stepfather about this, for he already bore enough pain in the knowledge that his wife did not and could never love him. Later, after her stepfather's unexpected death, times had become even more difficult. Ennis had still been young, their mother had been useless, and Amarië had upon occasion been forced to entertain male company in exchange for dire necessities such as protection and food.

None of this had she shared with anyone, not even Ennis.

She closed her eyes, trying to force away the memories. She had always done what she had had to do. She had tried to be brave, even when on the inside she had been a quivering mass of self-doubt and anger and dread. Yet to face Haldir's wrath and endure his continued contempt was one of the hardest things she had ever had to do.

Why should that be? And why did she care? Why did it hurt so much?

Days had passed and still he did not speak to her or send a message. Filled with misery, her chest tightened even more. What would her elven father have said? Would he have had any wise words? Had any of his dream-lessons really helped her? And why did she not remember any of them save for the teachings of the Elvish tongue? She knew the dreams and lessons continued, but the memory always faded with the morning's light.

_Answers come when the seeker is ready._

Galadriel's voice jerked her from her reverie. The powerful yet baffling words teased her, sinuously winding their way into her mind. Had she imagined the voice? Or was Galadriel truly speaking to her right now?

_Learn while you can and face your Truth.  
_  
Amarië whipped around, but as she had known very well, the Lady of Light did not stand behind her. She was alone, as always.

Why was she always alone?

Was it because she had pushed everyone else away? Was it her own fault? Tonight, she had even refused to spend time with Ferodir, as though it would be some kind of betrayal, although a betrayal of what kind she could not say.

Tonight she had refused Ferodir's escort, and he had seemed to understand. At once he had stopped flirting with her, and instead offered her a piece of what was probably very sound advice. "You ought to cry," he had said before he left her.

But right now she was unable to cry. There was only this horrific pain that seemed to be tearing her apart like some great claw raking at her insides.

She desperately needed someone to talk to, someone who could provide comfort. Who could she turn to? She drew a deep breath as she considered this. Lord Celeborn had been kind, but he did not seek her out. Yet he had told her that she might come to him when she chose. Perhaps that's what she should do.

Perhaps her grandfather was the person in whom she could confide.

Yes.

xxx

To her astonishment, she found him at the base of the stairway leading to the flet upon which she had just been standing. "My lord?" she said uncertainly.

The Elf lord slowly began to climb the stairs. "Finally, Amarië, you are ready to receive comfort. I am glad. And I am here for you now."

She swallowed, her fingernails curling into her palms so hard it hurt. There was no point in asking how he knew. What mattered was that he was here for her, this tall, magnificent Elf-being who discerned so much. "I know not what to say, my lord. You amaze me yet again."

"Come, child," he said with a smile, "there is a bench. Come sit beside me."

Together they sat, facing the night, though the entire scope of Lord Celeborn's attention fixed on her as though nothing else in the world existed. Once again it seemed as though he waited for her to speak.

She gazed into the darkness and asked the question foremost on her mind. "Why did you let me hide my knowledge of Elvish? Why didn't you tell me it was wrong?"

"That choice was yours to make," he answered. "And it was not necessarily wrong. It simply brought consequences you did not like. Still, to experience teaches more than to be told. It was a good lesson for you."

She nodded, her throat aching.

"Breathe in some sweet Lothlórien air for a few moments. That's it. Now tell me what its scent calls to your mind."

She closed her eyes. "Just . . . life," she murmured. "And . . ."

"And what?" he prompted.

"Unbearable . . . longing for something . . . something . . . I cannot have," she finished in a whisper.

"Not cannot," he corrected gently. "That for which you yearn is attainable."

"Is it? How do you know?" Her voice shook.

He put his arm around her shoulders and drew her close. "I have heard the call of your soul, Amarië. It cries out in pain, but its call is for that which should not bring pain. It calls for love, and the rewards that love can bring. And that is something you are destined to find once you have learned to trust. You know of what I speak."

She did not respond. Her throat felt squeezed, her lips clamped shut.

"Cry, Granddaughter," he said tenderly. "Cry, Daughter of Celebrenin. There is no shame in it. Release the dam that holds your tears. Only then can healing begin."

And much to her surprise she did, releasing all the pent-up emotion of the past few weeks, and of the months and years before that. She sobbed as though her heart had ripped in half, heaving great torturous shudders that tore great holes in the fabric of her inner armor. And her grandfather's arm stayed close, gifting her with a comfort that she had never known, the kind of comfort that could only come from a place of unconditional acceptance and love.

xxx

For every day of the past week, Haldir's mood had grown worse. Amarië haunted him, her image dancing through his mind so often it seemed likely to drive him mad. The only time he could forget her was during swordplay, and so he spent nearly every hour of the day drilling the various humans until they could stand no more, then turned to Ferodir or one of his brothers after that, until even they tired of the game.

This day had been the worst so far, for no discernable reason. Instead of fading, the memory of Amarië's last words still twisted into him like a hot knife. She hated him, found him despicable. And he was despicable; he readily admitted it.

In the beginning, when he had replayed the scene in his mind, all he had been able to see were her wrongdoings. However, as the days passed, that had changed and he had been able to see his own. He had treated her roughly, spoken cruelly. He had not tried to understand or ask for explanations. He had simply responded as though she were one of his soldiers, subject to his discipline and authority. He had reacted out of pride and arrogance—his worst failings, as his brothers were so fond of telling him.

And although she had indeed been guilty of deception and all else that he'd accused her of, none of that seemed to matter now. Without realizing it, his views had shifted enough so he could recognize her courage. He knew quite well that he had frightened and humiliated her, and had even threatened to strike her. Of course he would not have, but he had allowed her to think that he might. He knew quite well that he could be extremely intimidating when he chose to be.

But she had stood up to him and he admired that.

Moreover, she had stood up for what she believed. He respected that.

Filled with self-disgust, he moved to the window of his quarters and looked down toward Amarië's room. He sensed she was not there. Somehow he could always tell.

Likely she had gone to his own favorite spot at the pinnacle of the city. Ferodir said she often went there and so just lately he had avoided going there himself. He frowned, hating the way he felt, hating the knowledge of his own failings. Perhaps if she was there, if she would speak to him, if she would listen . . . perhaps he might find the words to set things right between them. On the other hand, he might make the situation worse, though he did not know if that was even possible.

Never before had he particularly cared what someone else thought of him as long as they respected him. But with her, it was different. He could not bear the thought of her hatred, her contempt. He must do something, take some action. Abruptly, he made the decision he had known he would make all along.

He would go and look for her.

Leaving his rooms, he walked deliberately up the various steps and along the walkways until he neared his destination and heard the sounds of weeping. He stopped, listening. It was Amarië. He knew it as surely as he knew the sounds of each individual bird in the Lothlórien forest. Why did she cry? Had his cruelty been as great as that? Or was it only his arrogance speaking, that he would think she might cry for him? Perhaps she cried for some reason he had no knowledge of.

Very softly, he mounted the steps until he saw that she was not alone. Again, he stopped.

In part he was relieved because it was right for her to take comfort from the Elf who was her grandfather. At the same time, he possessed an almost uncontrollable urge to go and comfort her himself. Why was that urge so powerful?

He felt foolish. Very foolish. She did not need him. 

As quietly as he'd approached, he turned around and left.

xxx

Eventually, Amarië wiped her tears and rose, slightly embarrassed by her unrestrained display. No doubt she looked a sight with her puffy eyes and reddened nose. Did Elves behave in such a way? Or was this her human side displaying itself?

But Lord Celeborn merely smiled and offered to escort her back to her chamber. Thinking she had taken enough of his time, she opened her mouth to decline, but caught the slight lifting of the Elf-lord's brow. In his gentle way, he was teasing her, and so she smiled and accepted, feeling peaceful in his presence.

However, once alone in her room, her restlessness returned. She washed her face and combed her hair, then paced, not knowing what to do. The dreadful pressure in her heart had eased, but not entirely. She still felt fragile and rather lost. She did not feel that she could sleep.

After an hour or so, she decided to go and visit Ennis. For the past week, she had not done so without Ferodir's escort, but it did not matter. It was dark, but not so late that he would be asleep. He might be worried about her since this was the first night she had failed to come.

Quietly, she made her way out of her room, through the various walkways and down the many stairs, nodding politely to any Elves she passed along the way. They smiled and nodded back, though some gave her curious glances. At the base of the city, she passed the two Elf-guard sentinels, posted to be sure the humans did not attempt to enter the city. They did not speak or try to stop her as she slipped past them into the night.

It was very dark on the forest floor, for the great mellyrn trees allowed little of the moonlight to shine through. Still, she was able to pick out the path, following it until she came to the area where Ennis and the men lay upon their pallets. She had been wrong. The hour was later than she had realized and Ennis was asleep. The Elves must be working them hard.

She stood for a moment, listening to their snores, then turned and walked away, retracing the path she had taken a few moments before. Halfway back, she paused and closed her eyes, breathing deeply, taking in the air as Lord Celeborn had had her do. The forest scents mingled, the moss and leaves, tree bark and flowers, a pungent, life-sustaining perfume that pulled at her senses like a drug, heavy and sensual and sweet.

Too late she heard the crunch of a foot behind her. A large hand clamped over her mouth while a thick arm wrapped around her waist. "Don't make a sound, whore, or I'll break your little neck."

She knew at once who it was—Rufus, the red-haired man. He was the strongest of the men, the only one she had ever feared. She cursed herself; for the first time in months she had lowered her guard, and look what it had won her. No longer did she wear her knives strapped to her legs as she had done for so many years.

"How many of those Elves have enjoyed you?" he sneered. "I think it's time I got a taste too." His arm tightened as he dragged her, kicking and struggling, in the direction of the forest, away from the city.

Amarië could barely breathe from the weight of his hand pressed against her face. Still, she thrashed about, trying to land a blow that might stun him enough to enable her escape. Angered, he cuffed her on the side of the head so hard she saw pinpoints of light. Then suddenly she was on the ground, feeling faint from lack of air.

"If you make a sound it will be your last. Do you understand, witch?"

Frozen with terror, she nodded, hearing the truth behind the threat.

He freed her mouth, then stuffed his fingers into the neckline of her gown, ripping both gown and chemise down the front well past her hips. Kneeling between her legs, he pressed his knees onto her thighs, pinning her as he groped her breasts. His breath and body stank. Revulsion rose in her throat, and she instinctively grabbed for his wrists in an attempt to stop him, but again he smacked her across the face with the flat of his hand, then twice more, hard, as though it gave him pleasure.

"I'd like to do that again," he added, "but first I'm going to sample you."

She barely heard him. She could feel herself tumbling into blackness, into a void where nothing could hurt her, nothing . . .

_Be strong, meleth. He is coming.  
_  
xxx

Haldir was with his brothers when he first felt her call. They had been drinking ale together in his room while Rúmil read them his latest attempt at poetry. The poem's subject involved a certain maiden with whom Rúmil had lately become entranced. It seemed a subject he never tired of, much to the amusement of his brothers.

Haldir's head jerked up so suddenly that Rúmil stopped in mid-sentence.

"What is it?" Orophin asked.

Haldir made no answer, but sprang to his feet and headed for his weapons. Moving swiftly, he seized his bow and quiver, and thrust his scimitar into his belt. "I must go," he said curtly. "It's Amarië."

Neither of his brothers questioned him further. They both jumped up and ran from the room, racing to retrieve their own weapons.

Haldir could not remember a time when he had sped through Caras Galadhon at such a pace. He knew his brothers would follow, but had no time to wait for them. Something was wrong. He knew it, but did not know how he knew it, or how he knew which way to go. It was as though he was being drawn or led.

At the forest floor, he sprinted past the guards, leaving them behind as he followed what by now had become so insistent a pull that he could almost see it. He reached Amarië just in time to witness the blow that knocked her senseless. With lightning speed, he nocked an arrow and aimed it at the red-haired man.

"Get off her, human, or you will die."

The man jerked around to stare, his broad face displaying shock. "You," he said in a confounded voice. "I might have known!"

"Get off her now," Haldir repeated, his voice cold and deadly.

The sudden appearance of Rúmil and Orophin seemed to tip the scales in the human's mind. With three elven arrows aimed at his chest, the man called Rufus seemed to realize that he was out of his depth. As he slowly rose to his feet, Haldir took in the fact that the man's leggings were still in place.

"If you had done what you intended," he said, "you would be dead right now."

"You would kill me for that?" Rufus seemed astonished, yet clung to his bravado. "What kind of creature are you, that you would defend the whore? Or don't Elves like to share?"

Enraged beyond reason, Haldir nearly released his arrow. "You try my patience, mortal. Say one more word and you will die. Touch her again and you will die. Do not speak to her again. Do not speak of her again. These are my warnings. Heed them not, and I will kill you."

xxx

For some time Amarië had been hearing Haldir's voice, but had not been taking in the meaning of his words. The first clear thing she knew was that he was bending over her, his hand pressed to her jaw where Rufus had struck her.

"Amarië," he murmured. "Look at me."

She opened her eyes, able to see him despite the dark. His face was close, his eyes examining her with an intentness that told her nothing. Memory surged back, and with it came the realization that she lay nearly naked in the forest on a bed of leaves. Sweet Eru, what must he think of her? Mortified, she tried to cover herself.

"Get me a cloak," he said to someone behind him. She felt him shift the remnants of her gown so that they lay across her flesh. "All is well, pen-neth. No, do not move. Rúmil is getting you something to wear."

She wrapped her arms across her chest, confused by the mere fact of his presence. "Why are you here? How did you know to come?"

"I know not the answer to your question. Where are you hurt?"

She lifted a hand to her jaw and cheek. "Here. But already it feels better."

"That is my doing. Nowhere else?"

She shook her head.

Rúmil made a sudden reappearance at her other side. "Here is a cloak," he said, squatting down. "Orophin has posted a guard over the mortal. Is she injured?"

"I think not. But very shocked."

"I am fine," she said in a quivery voice.

They wrapped the cloak around her, and Haldir lifted her in his arms.

"What are you doing?" she protested half-hysterically. "I can walk. Haldir, put me down!"

"I will not. Do not wiggle, Amarië. Do you want me to drop you?"

"No, but . . . put me down!"

"Rúmil." Haldir lowered his voice, saying something she could not hear.

She twisted her head to look at Rúmil, who gave her a charming smile and put his hand over her eyes. "I send you to your sleep, little sister," he murmured softly. "May only sweetness find its way into your dreams."

Rúmil watched his brother carry Amarië away with a mixture of amusement and awe. Thanks to his spell, she was now sleeping peacefully in Haldir's arms; he only hoped she would not be too annoyed with them when she awoke.

"Was that not the most extraordinary thing?" he said to Orophin, who had returned just in time to witness this. "He knew she was in danger. And where to find her."

"Indeed, I have never seen the like of it. What do you think it means?"

Rúmil shook his head. "I know not. Perhaps the Lady would know, but certainly not one such as I."

"Or I." Orophin rubbed his chin, engaged in thought. "I do not think it means he is becoming like Ferodir. Ferodir has been an empath all this life."

"No, it is something to do with Amarië. There is something that connects them."

"You know, our other wager may have gone awry, but there is nothing to prevent us from making another."

"Indeed." Rúmil's gray eyes lit. "What have you in mind?"

"I wager that he binds himself to her within a week."

"A week?" Rúmil considered. "That is very fast. Yet what I have seen tonight suggests that something truly out of the ordinary is happening. I will wager that he binds himself to her within the second week. Now what shall be the terms of our wager?"

"If I lose, I will clean your boots for two months. And I will listen to any poetry you write in the next year without complaint."

"And if I lose, I will clean your boots for two months. And I will write many poems and expect you to listen to them all."

"The loser should also clean Haldir's boots, but only for a single month."

"Agreed."

The two brothers smiled at each other.

"I do envy him a little," Orophin added. "She is certainly a lovely female."

"Indeed. And I'll wager I saw a little more of her loveliness than you did."

"Very likely," Orophin admitted with regret. "But I don't think we should wager on it. She may soon become our sister."

"You are right," Rúmil agreed. "It would not be suitable."

"Certainly not," said Orophin with a virtuous grin.

xxx

When Amarië awoke, daylight shone through her window. For a few seconds she lay still, wincing as the memory of what had occurred ran through her mind. Then she glanced over and saw Lornarië seated in a chair beside her bed.

"Good morning," the blonde Elf greeted her. "How are you feeling?"

Amarië brushed the hair from her face, touching the line of her jaw with her fingertips. All that remained was a slight tenderness. "Fine, I think. How long have you been here?"

"A little while. Haldir sat with you for much of the night. He told me what happened. I am so sorry. It must have been dreadful. I did not realize that mortals behaved in such a manner."

Amarië sat up, then realized she did not wear a nightgown and clutched the linen sheet to her chest. "Did he say anything else?" she asked uneasily.

"No, nothing else."

"Where is he now?" she asked, wondering if he had been the one who had undressed her and put her to bed. Perhaps it was better not to know.

Lornarië's fair head tilted. "I know not. It is possible he is resting, but more likely he has gone to the practice field to work with the mortals."

Amarië lay back against the pillows, suddenly very depressed. "I think I may sleep awhile longer, Lornarië. You do not need to stay."

Lornarië rose. "Certainly, Lady Amarië. Rest well."

In truth, Amarië was not feeling sleepy at all, but old habits died hard. When pain came, she wanted to be alone.

What must he think of her? Oh, granted he had rescued her, but knowing that he had found her in such a situation was almost more than she could bear. He knew what it was they called her, that dreadful word. Did he believe it? Well, how could he not, after she had shamelessly offered herself to him not once but twice? Surely she had forever lost any chance to repair his good opinion of her. Not that it was likely he had ever had a good opinion of her in the first place. What else could he feel for her but contempt?

She buried her head in the pillows, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. Now that she could cry once more, would she ever be able to stop?

xxx

Ferodir stood before Galadriel, waiting to learn if she had further instructions for him. He had gleaned all that had happened the previous night from Rúmil and Orophin, and deemed it worthy of Galadriel and Celeborn's attention. Both the Lord and Lady were disturbed by his report.

"Perhaps we should send the humans away," Celeborn said slowly. "There is evil in this man who attacked my granddaughter."

Galadriel looked at him. "They will be sent away soon enough. Haldir must complete their training. Each human has a purpose to fulfill, the brother most of all. He must be prepared when his time comes."

"What of the dangerous one?"

"His threat has been diminished."

Both were silent for a long moment.

Then Galadriel spoke. "The time I spoke of draws near. They are running out of time, these two. The bond must be forged soon."

"It has been such a short while since she arrived," Celeborn said.

"Since she arrived, yes. But the connection has been there since the dawn of time. Too long have they searched for each other. You know how it was for us."

As Galadriel's servant, Ferodir knew better than to ask questions, although his curiosity was intensely aroused. Instead, he only waited, content to know they trusted his discretion, a great honor for an Elf who had lived less than a millennia.

"Ferodir," Galadriel said, "you may go. Once again, I thank you for your services. Please continue to watch and report to me."

After the dark-haired Elf had left, Galadriel turned to Celeborn. "I think I should send them to the Pool."

Celeborn considered this. "I am reluctant to interfere. But since time is short, the Pool could serve them well."

"I am convinced of it."

"Very well, my love. Let it be as you wish."

tbc


	10. Visions

**Part 9 – Visions**

Haldir had purposely left Amarië before she'd awakened, thinking that the last person she would want to see when she opened her eyes would be him. Still, it had been hard to leave; he had enjoyed watching her sleep. In repose, her face took on a serenity that captivated him, and this had somehow eased its way into his mind, enabling him to find his own measure of peace. When at first he had tucked her between the sheets, he had still been gripped by rage—rage at the mortal as well as rage at himself for all the mistakes he had made of late. So close had he come to killing the mortal, so close to losing his much reputed self-control. And all because of this Elf-woman whose presence had altered his entire view of his life and of himself.

How could this happen? And what was he going to do about it?

Avoiding her was no solution. After what happened last night, he realized there was some sort of connection between them, but he had no notion why or what it meant. All he knew was that he felt the urgent need to talk to her, to try to mend this unhappy state of affairs that existed between them. Since it seemed she would be living in Caras Galadhon, he wondered if it might be possible for a friendship to form between them. A closer relationship might be more than he could hope for, but if she could forgive him for the things he'd said, perhaps he might occasionally be given the gift of her smile. His life was hard and so was he, but he still valued softness and laughter when they came to him. Sometimes he even yearned for them, as though some part of him was incomplete.

All morning he had worked with the mortals and his spirit was weary of it. However, it had turned out that Amarië was right about them. Although their abilities varied, for the most part, they had come farther than he would have believed possible in the short amount of time they had been here. Another two or three weeks could very well make the difference she'd predicted. Perhaps the race of men was not so hopeless after all. As for Rufus, Haldir had made certain that all the Elves knew to watch him carefully and continuously. He still could not bear to look at the man, so he had others work with him.

At the moment, the humans were resting and eating, which gave him a respite from their company. He walked over to Ferodir, who sat lounging on a bench, a bottle of wine next to him, a glass in his hand. It was so typical that, despite his mood, Haldir almost smiled. "Have you seen Amarië today?" he asked in a casual voice.

Ferodir lifted his brows. "Only for a moment. I think Lornarië took her in hand for a while. She tried to cheer her up by taking her to visit some friends. I don't know how successful she was."

Haldir sat down and looked at the grass. "She had a bad experience."

"I know. I would have killed the man, but I understand why you didn't."

"Do you?" Haldir glanced at the other Elf. "I'm not sure I know, so how can you?"

Ferodir turned and looked him in the eye. "Because you are the Guardian of Lórien and do not take such actions on a whim, however personal that whim might be. You have integrity and moral principles as well as great wisdom and loyalty. The mortal did not deserve mercy, but you gave it to him anyway." Ferodir was silent for a few moments as he poured himself some more wine. Then he added, quite carefully, "The Valar look kindly upon you, you know."

Haldir gave a short laugh. "No, I don't know, and how could you? In any case, I am not as virtuous as you seem to think. I wanted to kill him and nearly did."

"Oh, I didn't say you were completely virtuous." Ferodir smiled and sipped his drink. "You have your faults. But don't assume because I am young and frivolous that I know nothing. Being an empath is not easy, but there are occasional compensations."

"Such as?" Haldir shot him a curious look.

"Such as being given information."

Haldir studied him, but could see that the other Elf did not intend to explain.

Ferodir said quietly. "I suggest you go and talk to her."

"I know not where she is."

"You knew last night. Perhaps you should do what you did then."

"You make it sound so easy," Haldir answered, rather moodily. "I do not understand what happened. I only followed what I felt."

Ferodir lifted a brow. "Then do so again."

Haldir was silent, considering this. He was still at a loss regarding the events that had occurred. How had he known she was in danger? How had he known where to go? Never in his life had such a thing happened to him, despite his finely honed instincts, which had saved his life on several occasions. This was altogether different.

Gathering his resolve, he rose to his feet, and glanced down at Ferodir. "Don't drink all that wine. I intend to challenge you when I return, and I don't want it to be too easy."

"Not again!" Ferodir complained. "Why do you not simply admit that I am better than you?"

Haldir smiled. "Because you aren't."

xxx

Reaching the stairs to the city, Haldir set one booted foot upon the first step and stopped. Where would he find her? Could he really feel her? It seemed ridiculous, but what could it hurt to try?

Ignoring the curious guards, he closed his eyes and thought about her, allowed the image of her face to form in his mind. Amarië, where are you?

To his amazement, he felt it at once, the inexorable pull, and it led away, in the opposite direction, out into the forest. Dare he trust this? Would she have gone out there, especially after what had happened last night?

He glanced at the guards, but decided not to ask them if they had seen her. Instead, he elected to give himself over to this feeling. He turned and headed away from Caras Galadhon, heading out into the surrounding woods where mellyrn trees mixed with other types of foliage, and the soft scents of autumn filled the air.

Ten minutes of walking brought him to a glade that at first glance appeared empty. Then he saw her, sitting on a tree branch just above his head. Out of habit and intent, he had made no sound, so she did not yet know he was here. Her eyes were closed as though in a deep reverie, her face relaxed as though she dreamed. Her slim ankles dangled just above his head, and he looked at them, appreciating their beauty even while he puzzled over the mystery of how he had found her so easily.

Briefly, he debated how best to get her attention and on impulse chose a mischievous act. Bending down, he plucked a nearby flower, then brushed the pale petals against her bare ankle. Her foot jerked and her eyes flew open.

"Oh! Haldir!" she gasped, her cheeks turning a faint shade of pink. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to find you," he said calmly. "I thought we should talk."

She looked down at him, and he could see the play of emotion in her face—reluctance and hesitation and perhaps a trace of longing? Or did he just imagine that?

"I know I should thank you for . . . for last night . . . " she began awkwardly.

"There is no need." He held up a hand before he realized that he still held the flower, and felt a little silly. "Will you come down?"

She slid gracefully to the ground without his help, then turned to face him. "How did you find me?"

He shook his head. "I have no explanation. I only knew you were here." Not knowing what to do with the flower in his hand, he tucked it behind her ear. "No point in wasting it," he explained, a little gruffly.

She seemed bemused by both his action and his words. "How could you know I was here? Is there some elven sense of which I know naught?"

"No sense I am familiar with. How are you feeling?"

"I am well." She turned away.

"Are you certain?" He followed her, trying to look her in the eye. "I am concerned about you." Again, she turned her face away, and he realized she was embarrassed.

In a low voice, she said, "I behaved foolishly and got what I deserved. I have long known that Rufus might attempt such an action. I should have been on my guard."

"You did not get what you deserved!" he countered, taken aback. "How can you say such a thing?"

She shook her head, covering her mouth with her hand. Her head bowed as though she could scarcely hold back tears.

"Amarië," he said softly, "look at me."

"I cannot," she whispered. "I know what you must think of me. And I have earned your contempt, I know that."

"I feel no contempt for you. If I gave you that impression, it was done in the heat of anger. I no longer feel that anger. Amarië, look at me," he insisted.

Slowly, she turned, her blue eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Then I know what you feel for me is pity, and that is something I do not want from you, Marchwarden. Yet I am glad you are here because I have something to say to you."

He did not want to talk. All he wanted was to put his arms around her and draw her close, to feel her sweet body pressed to his, to offer her the comfort of his strength and his kisses. Instead he said, "And what is that?"

"Twice you have accused me of lying to you. I apologize if it seemed so. I can only say that my reasons seemed sound even though in your eyes they were not."

"Let us not speak of that now," he said, barely resisting the urge to reach out and smooth a stray lock of hair from her cheek. How could it be that he was so drawn to her? Never had he felt like this, not in all the long years of his life.

"Please, I must. Surely you wonder how I learned to speak your tongue. I would like to tell you if you will listen."

He nodded, his interest caught. "Very well."

"This may sound strange, but ever since I was a young child, my father has come to me in dreams. I know not how this can be so. All I can say is that he has always spoken to me in the Elvish tongue. I learned Elvish at the same time I learned the common tongue. Lord Celeborn has told me that my father is a sort of Teacher to me. Why the Valar have permitted it, I know not."

He considered her words with amazement. "I have never heard of such a thing. Yet if you say it is so then I believe you. I wish I had learned the common tongue with such ease," he added wryly.

She gave him a small smile. "Now I have told you all my secrets. How is my brother doing? Is he progressing as well as I hoped?"

The last thing Haldir wanted to speak of was her brother or the mortals, but he answered with courtesy, "You were correct about them. They do much better than I expected. Ennis has much potential. And the two wounded men are nearly well enough to start their training."

He paused, watching her, taking in the details of her features with a hunger he had never known. He wanted to touch her so badly it hurt.

"Amarië, come here," he said quietly.

She met his eyes. "Please, don't."

He took in the tiny tremble at the corners of her mouth. "Don't what, Amarië? Don't put my arms around you? It is all I have desired to do for days."

"Is that the price of my rescue?"

"Of course not!" The remark stunned him. How could she think that of him? Or was she justified? His emotions were so convoluted that he no longer knew what he felt.

"I already paid you once," she reminded him. "For me, it was a heavy price."

He heard her words, trying to unravel their meaning. "I did not mean it to be so," he told her, then realized by her next words that it was the wrong thing to say.

"I am quite aware you meant nothing by it. Hence, I must protect myself. To follow my inclinations where you are concerned is to invite danger. I fear the pain too much."

"I do not wish to cause you pain. I only wish to offer comfort."

Her expression lost some of its stiffness. "Well, perhaps you mean it kindly, but your comfort would be of no comfort to me. Quite the opposite, in fact."

He understood her meaning, but also knew she did not understand his. He was unused to uttering sentiments of this sort. He had spoken neither well nor clearly. "Amarië," he tried again, but her hand lifted to stay his speech.

"Please say no more." She took a step away from him. "I am sorry not to be able to be what you would have me be. I know how I must appear to you, but I am truly not like that. I have only ever done what I had to do to survive. Right now it is just . . . so difficult for me . . ."

Choking back a sob, she spun around and hurried away from him, heading back in the direction of the city. The urge to go after her was so strong it almost overpowered him, but he did not. He must respect her wish to be alone. He was far too old to behave in such a reckless fashion.

Thinking must come first. If only he could think clearly.

xxx

Ferodir took one look at Haldir's expression when he returned and sighed inwardly. Whatever had transpired had obviously not gone as Haldir hoped. Out of habit and with very little guilt, Ferodir gathered all his resources and tried to reach into his friend's mind. He did not expect success, for the Guardian of Lórien had long ago perfected the art of keeping him out, even if he did not consciously realize he was doing it.

However, this time the result was stunningly dissimilar to his former attempts. All of Haldir's most elemental emotions rushed into Ferodir's mind—loneliness, misery, confusion, pain, frustration, sexual desire—all colliding with each other in a seething morass of pure wretchedness. But this was nothing compared to the tidal wave that lay behind, a profound love and longing of such naked intensity that Ferodir nearly fell to his knees. Instinctively, he raised his inner shields to protect himself from the strength of this double onslaught.

"Shall we fight?" Haldir asked as he reached Ferodir's side.

Shaken by what he had discerned, Ferodir studied his friend's face, noting its bleakness. How long had Haldir been concealing such emotion from the world? How long could he continue to suppress it and survive? Was it only because of Amarië or had he been tormented like this for a long time? There was no way for Ferodir to know, but now he understood why the Lady was so concerned. Galadriel cared for all her people, but Ferodir knew she had a particularly warm regard for Haldir.

"I will fight you on one condition," he told the Marchwarden.

Haldir's dark brows drew together. "And what is that? That I go easy on you? I see you finished all the wine."

"I could drink three more bottles and still give you a good fight," Ferodir boasted with a grin. "But no, that is not what I was going to say."

"What then?"

"My condition is that you tell me what you plan to do regarding Amarië. I have been able to determine that there is, shall I say, a difficulty? For want of a better word."

"Difficulty?" Haldir's tone was hollow. He glanced off into the distance as though to contemplate his answer, then sighed. "I know you mean well, but speaking of this will do no good."

"How do you know unless you try?"

"Because the spoken word holds a reality that the unspoken word does not! Surely you of all people know this!"

"These feelings are already reality in your heart," Ferodir pointed out.

Haldir shot him a hard glance. "You said you could not read my thoughts."

"I cannot. But your emotions scream at me, my friend. I cannot help but hear them."

"What good would talking do? It will not change a thing. It will not change how she feels about me."

"Ah. So that is the root of the matter. You think she does not care for you?"

"I know not what she feels. But whatever it is, it causes her to weep and flee from me. That does not seem to hold much promise of affection. In fact, there is no reason why she should wish for my company. I have not been pleasant to her. And I know not how to go about wooing a reluctant female." He scowled. "Because of last night, she fears I think the worst of her. She thinks I have contempt for her, which of course is untrue."

Ferodir wanted to groan aloud, but resisted for fear of giving offense. "But surely she is grateful for your timely rescue?"

"Grateful, yes. That is different. It is not her gratitude I want."

"No," Ferodir agreed thoughtfully. "I see your point. Perhaps you should just walk into her room and kiss her. Sweep her off her feet with your charm, so to speak."

Haldir uttered a harsh laugh. "That is just what I should not do. I believe she has been ill-treated by human males. To force myself on her would be wrong. It might be the way a human would behave, but not an Elf. She does not yet understand that we Elves hold ourselves to a higher standard. I would have her learn this through me, not despite of me."

Although Ferodir followed this logic, he could not agree that his suggestion was so far off the mark. He had reason to believe that Amarië would not find Haldir's kisses distasteful. "Did you tell her any of this?" he inquired.

"I did. At least some of it. I cannot say how much she heard."

"Well, she is very young. Still, as a half-Elf, do not forget that she can choose immortality. You could have an eternity together."

A look of stark pain flickered across Haldir's face. "Or an eternity apart," he added bitterly. "I cannot think of this right now. Come, let us fight."

Ferodir drew his sword and followed Haldir onto the practice field. After they sparred, he would go to Galadriel at once. Based on what he had heard her say to Celeborn, it appeared there was some urgency in this matter. Haldir and Amarië might very well solve their own problems eventually, but at the rate they were going, it could take months or years!

And Ferodir had the uneasy feeling they did not have that much time.

xxx

Amarië thumbed through a book written in Sindarin, realizing that while she understood the Elvish language, it might be a long time before she was able to read it. The slanted, elongated writing was beautiful to look upon, and she touched it with her finger as she realized how much knowledge the Elves must have accrued over the long ages of their lives. She had borrowed the book from the Lothlórien library, thinking she might be able to decipher it if she put some effort into it, but it was clear that she would need a teacher.

A knock on the door came as a welcome distraction, and she set the book aside and went to open it. Lornarië greeted her with a smile. "Good day, Lady Amarië. The Lady bids me to invite you to attend her if you can spare the time."

Naturally Amarië did not hesitate, yet as she followed Lornarië along the walkways to wherever Galadriel awaited her, she could not help feeling nervous. Each time she met the Lady, she felt as though she were in the presence of a goddess, one who knew far too much about how Amarië thought and felt. At the same time, she sensed in Galadriel an overwhelming kindness and compassion that made Amarië feel tongue-tied and very young.

She had expected to ascend higher in the city, but instead Lornarië led her downward to a place she had not yet visited at the ground level. At once she saw Galadriel, standing motionless in a small clearing, garbed in a gown of shimmering white, her lovely lips curved in a gentle smile. Nearby, a small waterfall murmured and sparkled as it tripped over stones into a stream. Lornarië retreated, leaving Amarië alone with the Lady.

"I am pleased to see you, Amarië."

Amarië walked a few steps closer, then bowed her head and touched a hand to her brow in the respectful elven manner. "My lady."

"Come and sit." Galadriel gestured toward a stone bench a short distance away.

When they were seated, Galadriel gave her a kind look. "You look so lost, child. Would you like to talk about what happened?"

"I would rather not. I don't even want to think about it."

"What happened was not your fault. It even had a purpose."

Amarië's head jerked up. "What purpose could it have?"

Rather than answering, Galadriel replied, "How did Haldir know you were in danger? How did he know where to find you?"

"These are questions I have asked him. He said he did not know."

Galadriel's blue eyes locked with hers. "Nor does he, with his mind. But his essence knows. And so does yours."

"I know not what you mean." Amarië found she could not look away from the Lady's blue eyes, those eyes that contained so much wisdom and knowledge and power.

"Child, have you not felt a connection with Haldir?"

"A connection?"

"You know of what I speak. You have known many males in your life. None have made you feel as he does." Galadriel reached out and lifted Amarië's chin with her fingers. "I do not censure you. You have done what you had to do. I have seen it. I have seen your mother, how it was with her. What she did to you."

"H-how could you see it?" Amarië asked, her voice trembling a little.

"I have seen it in my mirror. Has no one told you of my mirror?"

Amarië shook her head.

"Would you like to look? It is your choice. I cannot counsel you one way or another."

"What will I see?"

"Even the wisest cannot say. The mirror chooses what to show depending on the viewer. It could be something from the past or present, or even something that has not yet come to pass . . . and perhaps never will."

Amarië closed her eyes, thinking of everything that had happened in the past days. "I'm afraid to look, and yet I feel compelled to do so."

"Then come." Galadriel rose.

Amarië watched Galadriel dip a silver ewer into the stream, then turn and pour the water into a shallow basin of silver set on a pedestal of stone carved with intricate designs. Galadriel breathed upon the water, then stepped back and gestured with her hand.

Amarië moved forward and stared into it. At first she saw nothing but her own reflection, then the image changed and she saw herself as a young girl. She cowered in a corner, sobbing quietly from the pain of welts upon her back. Next she saw herself practicing her archery, and following this, the fearful, desperate night she had first given herself to a man. She flushed in shame at the memory.

"Do not look away," Galadriel commanded. "Let the mirror complete its task."

Recent events followed. The flash of an Orcish blade grazing her thigh. The Lothlórien forest. Haldir's face as she placed her hand on his chest and tried to bargain with him. Haldir bending over her, healing the wound on her thigh, placing lembas near her hand. The images flashed quickly by, then slowed as she was shown the aftermath of last night's incident. She saw herself sleeping in Haldir's arms as he carried her to her room and placed her gently on her bed. She saw the way he smoothed her hair, then bent to brush his lips across her brow.

Then it changed again. She saw herself being lovingly embraced by an Elf, but this time she could not see his face. Behind them loomed something dark and huge and ugly, threatening them even while they kissed. And then, abruptly, the water turned to blood, and in that blood lay a golden cord, stretched thin and taut, its ends invisible.

Amarië whirled away, spinning around with a sharp, agonized cry.

Galadriel was silent.

"What does it mean?" Amarië's breath came in shallow gasps, her heart thudding hard.

"You saw the blood? It is a warning of what could come to pass if you fail to follow your Truth."

Amarië turned to look at Galadriel, frightened by her words.

Galadriel's face was somber. "Do you know about the eleven concept of Fëa and Hroa?"

Amarië shook her head.

"The Fëa is the spirit and the Hroa is the body. Amarië, your Fëa is bound to Haldir's Fëa. You chose each other long ago, at the very dawn of time in your first moments of creation. Your Fëar are mated for all eternity. That is the meaning of the golden cord."

Gripped with shock, Amarië stammered, "How can that be possible? Haldir has lived for millennia, and I am so young . . . and half human."

"I know not how it is possible. The mirror does not reveal all. Perhaps you have lived before. If so, you may eventually recover those memories, providing you choose to remain with us. Like my daughter's husband, Elrond of Rivendell, you can choose to become immortal because of your elven blood. Or you can choose mortality and die. Either way, your Fëa will stay bound to Haldir's. Your destinies are forever intertwined."

"But I saw blood, so much blood!" Amarië 's voice shook. "Is he going to die?"

Galadriel reached out and touched her cheek. "Amarië, the world is changing. I feel it and so does the Lord Celeborn. A great evil hovers over this land, and I fear that we Elves will be drawn into it. All I can tell you is this—if you bind your Hroa to Haldir's Hroa, you can save him. This is your Truth. What you saw in the mirror can be averted. This is what your father's lessons have been about. And since the Valar have permitted him to teach you those lessons, there must an important reason."

Dazed, Amarië shook her head, her tears very close to the surface. "Forgive me, my lady, for being slow. This is so much to take in."

"I know it is. And I cannot tell you what to do. But I can tell you this—Celeborn and I are bound in the same way. If one of us should pass to Mandos, the other would soon follow."

Amarië absorbed this, trying to understand all the implications. "And the binding of the Hroa? What does that mean?"

"It means the union of the body combined with the promise of the heart. It means marriage, Amarië. Elvish marriage. It would be for all time. You could go to Valinor together."

Amarië turned away, her body trembling. "But I'm not sure he even likes me," she whispered.

"You have already chosen each other, child. Long have you searched and waited to find each other in the flesh. Do not let a few heated words keep you apart. Such things mean nothing. At least speak with him about this. I think you will be surprised by what he says."

Amarië understood now why Haldir had known she was in danger. But he had not known the reason, which meant he did not know all of this. Who would tell him?

Galadriel smiled and answered the unspoken question. "He understands about the Fëa and the Hroa. After last night, he knows about the connection between you. As for the rest, Celeborn is talking to him right now. Meanwhile, child, I would tell you about the Pool of Renewal."

xxx

Standing upon the city's highest flet, Haldir stared off into the distance, his mind reeling with shock from the information Lord Celeborn had just given him. His Fëa bound to Amarië's Fëa? It explained so much, yet at the same time it utterly staggered him. All these long years of loneliness and searching, watching others find their life-mates, yet never finding his. Thinking himself too hard-hearted, too demanding, too particular to fall in love. And all this time, he had only been waiting for Amarië.

"Galadriel is explaining all this to Amarië," Celeborn said. "Under normal circumstances, we would not interfere, but these are not normal circumstances. Sauron is gaining strength; his evil escalates. The race of men lacks the might to fight him. We have yet to determine whether we Elves will honor our ancient alliance or leave them to their doom. Yet even while the fate of Middle Earth stands upon the edge of a knife, we must think of individuals. You and my granddaughter may have but little time to prepare."

Haldir pondered these words. "I do not see how I can rush such a thing. We have known each other for little more than a week. And yet in truth it feels like longer. Much longer. I sensed it even at our first meeting."

"You have each suffered much pain. Galadriel wishes you to take Amarië to bathe in the Pool of Renewal. It would be good for both of you."

Haldir turned in surprise. "She would permit it?"

"That is its purpose. Always is the power of Nenya to be used for healing and good. The water's magic can heal in ways that other spells cannot. You know this. If Elrond had brought Celebrían to bathe in its waters, perhaps she might not have taken the ship to the West."

Celeborn sighed. "But we shall see our daughter again one day."

"My lord, I know not what to say," Haldir responded in amazement.

"Say nothing to me, Marchwarden. Save your words for Amarië." Celeborn sounded faintly amused. "And this time I suggest you choose them wisely."

tbc

A/N - I thank all you great people for giving feedback, which means a lot to me. I appreciate it deeply.


	11. Renewal

**Part 10 –Renewal**

Bombarded with emotions, Haldir left Lord Celeborn and went straight for his quarters. In the older Elf's company, he had feigned a calm he did not feel; now he must try to digest what he had been told. With a deep breath, he headed for his favorite chair and sat quite still, his hands gripping the carven arms, his mind spinning with disordered fragments of thoughts.

Mated Fëar. Linked from the moment of creation. A destiny cast by his own choice before he had even been born into his elven body?

Torn between euphoria, astonishment and even disbelief, he couldn't seem to think, at least not rationally. This was unlike him.

Could it be true?

He had not had a shock of this magnitude in an age. Nay, that was untrue. He had never had a shock of this magnitude! Yet if he set his shock aside and considered, the whole idea felt as right and natural as the rising of the sun each morn. Celeborn had said it was unusual but not unknown. He had said there were a few others, some still searching for their Fëa-mates. He had said that he and Galadriel were also linked.

Haldir shook his head in bemusement. He had never heard of it, but if the Lord and Lady said it was true, then so it was. He knew this.

What had he done to deserve such good fortune?

He looked down at his hands. These hands had killed, they had protected and defended, they had wielded all manner of swords and bows in the service of his people. They had caressed female softness. But never had they reached out to another living being with the strength and purity of true love. Now reaching out was all he wanted, yearned to do. Thinking of all that he had said to Amarië, and all that he had done, he closed his eyes and prayed he had not ruined his only chance for happiness.

He sat for what seemed like a very long time. And then everything seemed to come together in his mind and he knew. All would be well. Always he had had faith in the wisdom of the Valar, especially Manwë, King of Arda, commander of the winds, and his consort, Elbereth, Queen and creator of the stars. And beyond this he had faith in Eru, The One, the creator of the Ainur—the first and mightiest beings whose music had created the world of Arda. If such things as mated Fëar were permitted, then they were permitted for a purpose. Who was he to question it? If they deemed him worthy, then he should accept this blessing with all the gratitude of which he was capable.

He was to have a life-mate! At last . . . at last!

And he loved her. He had loved her from the moment he'd set eyes on her, standing there in the Lothlórien woods looking so defiant and desperate and utterly beautiful. He had recognized her at once without realizing it. All this time he had been denying it; that was why he had been so terribly unhappy. Even Ferodir had seen this.

Overcome with sudden excitement, he went and looked at himself in the mirror, expecting to see a changed Elf reflected back at him. He had lost a little weight lately, likely due to misery, but otherwise he looked the same. Then he noticed his eyes. Had not their grayness taken on a new glow? And he felt lighter somehow, as though a great burden had just been lifted from his shoulders. He was in love!

Already, Amarië had made this difference in him.

Now, all he needed to decide was what to say and how to say it. And what to do and how to do it. It should not be too difficult with the knowledge he now possessed. Surely she must feel this connection between them just as he did. And the Lady would make her understand that it was not to be denied.

"Amarië," he said aloud, testing the flavor of her name on his tongue. It was the first time he had been able to do it with complete ease. "Amarië, meleth nín," he repeated with satisfaction. He felt a little foolish, but there was no one to hear.

Very well. Should he change his attire? He glanced down and decided that he was looking rather grubby. He would put on one of his finest tunics. He smiled at himself in the mirror. What was this odd emotion he was experiencing? Could he possibly be nervous? It was a new feeling, different from the tension one experienced in battle. Never before had he been nervous around females. He would prefer not to be nervous. But perhaps she would feel the same, so it would not matter.

Once attired to his liking, he found himself hesitating. He could not help recalling how everything he had said to her this morning had seemed to go as awry as an ill-aimed arrow. This time he must choose his words with care. What would he say? He closed his eyes, pondering this, but no words came to him. Perhaps he would just use his instincts when the time came. Always had he relied on his instincts and he trusted them.

Now, he only had to find her. At least that should not be difficult!

He walked to his door and opened it, glancing down toward her window. Yes, he was nervous, but he would not let it affect him. He reached out with his feelings to see if she was there, in her room, perhaps even now waiting for him to come to her.

She was there. He could feel her.

His heart began to race as he made his way to her chamber, lifted a hand and knocked. Yet when the door opened, he found he could say nothing. He just stood there, staring, drinking in her beauty, her eyes, her lips, the thick chestnut hair streaming over her shoulders and down her back. Her blue gown matched the shade of her eyes.

"Haldir," she said, her voice low. To his delight, she stepped back, holding the door open for him to enter. He stepped inside, glancing around him as she closed it behind him. He turned to face her.

"Amarië," he said, feeling absurdly tongue-tied. "Do I disturb you?"

"Not at all." He found her smile shy and sweet.

Encouraged, he added, "You look very well."

"Thank you. So do you."

He knew not what to say next. He cleared his throat. "When last I saw you it seemed to me that I . . . I said some things that made you unhappy."

"No." Her voice was gentle. "You said nothing wrong, I realize that now. Do not lay blame upon yourself. That fault was mine. I did not understand what was happening."

He just gazed at her, this beguiling Elf-woman who was to be his. Without thinking, he reached out and touched her hair. "Amarië," he murmured softly.

She caught his hand with her own and did not let go. "The Lady explained," she said, sounding breathless.

"So you understand?"

"I think so." Her fingers tightened. "As much as I am able. It is all so new to me."

"And to me also. I never thought to find the one I waited for. I had given up all hope. And now, after more than two thousand years, I have found you."

Holding her gaze, he lifted her hand and pressed it to his lips, feeling her tremble as, one by one, he kissed each of her fingers, then brushed her palm and wrist with light, feathery kisses. Her eyes fluttered shut. Slowly, he rubbed his cheek into the curve of her palm, watching her face in fascination, seeing how she reacted to his touch, loving the feel of her against his flesh.

"_Meleth_," he whispered, and saw her eyes open at the endearment. Keeping his eyes on her face, he kissed her wrist again and touched it with his tongue.

She gave a tiny whimper, her head tilting, her thick lashes lowered once more.

Her response ignited a fire within him. He knew he ought to stop. He'd had no intention of seducing her the first moment they were together. But perhaps a moment longer, a little self-indulgence . . .

Suddenly, her free arm came around his waist in a warm, hard hug that smelt of fresh air and tree-bark and flowers. She pressed against him, her lips at the base of his throat, her hand sliding up his back beneath his hair. Of its own accord, his body reacted, a white-hot need streaking through him.

"Amarië," he moaned, and enveloped her in his arms. For a few moments he just held her tightly, his eyes closed and his heart pounding. "This should wait. We need to talk first. And we should go to the Pool. It is Galadriel's gift to us. It will make the magic of our binding complete."

"Yes," she whispered.

"We have not talked enough."

"No."

Still, he did not release her, nor did they speak. They just held each other in a silence that was not a silence, but a moment rich with sharing and unspoken communication.

After a few minutes, he said, "Did Galadriel explain to you about elven binding?"

"Yes, but . . . I would like to hear it from you."

He gathered his wits together, searching for the right words. "Normally, we would know each other for a long time before considering such a step. But it seems we have already known each other far longer than most. And I feel ready. Do you?" He held his breath, waiting for her answer.

"Yes, I am ready. I have never been more ready for anything than this."

He sighed his relief, yet forced himself to say what his honor demanded. "It is important that you understand. I have had lovers before, but did not bind myself to any because my heart was not involved."

"I too have had lovers," she told him, "but never one who touched my heart."

"Do I touch your heart?" he asked, needing and wanting to hear her say it. "You said you hated me, but I did not think you meant it."

"I should not have spoken so. I am ashamed and sorry. In truth, you touched my heart from the moment I saw you." She hesitated, curling a lock of his hair around her finger. "I was drawn to you, even in the first moment of our meeting. Though I admit I did not care to be carried and dumped on the ground like a sack of apples," she added, flashing him a small grin.

He drew her closer still, his lips curving with the memory. "But you were such a luscious sack of apples. Still, I set you down too roughly and I am sorry. I was so struck by your courage and beauty that I could not think clearly. Not at all a position that a warden likes to find himself in."

"You called me a fair temptress," she reminded him.

He felt himself flush. "I did not know you understood my words."

"Your words gave me the strength to keep trying." He heard the smile in her voice. "I thought you might be a little softer than you seemed."

He lifted her chin and tried to look stern. "I nearly lost my self-control when you tried to bargain with me as you did. If I had, I would never have heard the end of it from my brothers. You will not attempt to influence me in such a way again."

"Never," she promised with a straight face.

He regarded her with amusement. "Why do I have the feeling you mean the opposite?" With difficulty, he pulled his mind back to the matter at hand. "Regarding an elven binding, you must be absolutely certain about it. Our bodies join and so do our hearts. All will know this when they look upon us—there is no hiding it. Once it is done, it cannot be undone. We will be forever bound to each other. You must understand this fully. "

"I do understand and it is what I wish. I would have it no other way."

"Then you agree? You are certain?"

"I am certain. I will gladly bind myself to you for all eternity, Haldir of Lórien."

He was conscious of a tingling elation far exceeding anything he had ever known. In one sense, the choosing of a life-mate had always seemed to him to be something that should be done with careful calculation, yet he had never quite been able to accept this. In fact, he had preferred to remain alone rather than choose someone with whom his heart was not engaged. Now all was revealed, and his heart was singing.

And yet one thing remained.

"Amarië," he said carefully, "did the Lady tell you about the choice of the half-elven? That Manwë will present you with two options?"

"She told me I would have a choice, yes."

Wanting to make certain she understood, he went on, "When Manwë comes, he will ask you to choose between immortality and the Fate of Man. Some call it the Gift of Man," he added, trying to keep the unease from his voice. He wanted her to choose freely, not be influenced by what he would choose for her.

"When will he come?" she asked, her eyes searching his face.

"There is no way to know. But you must consider your decision with great care. To be immortal means to be as I am, forever bound to Arda."

"Oh, my love, there is nothing to consider." Her voice wavered a little, and he realized it was from emotion. "Of course I would choose to be with you. Did I not just say that? Do you think I would leave you if I had another choice? I belong nowhere else but at your side."

He felt an enormous swell of relief and knew that a foolish smile had spread itself across his face. "I knew not what you would choose," he admitted sheepishly.

Her hand cupped his cheek, her gaze filled with intensity. "I will stay with you, Haldir. And I will do all in my power to keep you safe."

He frowned slightly, surprised by these words. "It is not your job to protect me. I will protect you." He searched her eyes, and for a moment he saw something that worried him.

"We will protect each other," she corrected, then in a lightning-swift change of mood, added teasingly, "Have we talked enough?"

"Enough?" Unsure of her meaning, he drew back to study her.

"I mean, will you kiss me now, my love?" She tilted her head in an inviting manner, her lips curved in a half-smile that sent the blood roaring in his veins.

"Aye," he said hoarsely. "That I will do."

He looked deep into her eyes, then lowered his lips to hers, taking her to him fully and thoroughly, yet gently and with great tenderness. He wanted to kiss her and cherish her and show her what he felt with his senses, with his mouth, with his hands and with his body, yet after a few moments he knew that this was not the time. Knowing himself nearly at the boundary of his self-control, he drew back, resting his head against her hair, his arms curled around the arch of her back as she leaned into him. He exhaled a long breath, pushing aside his hunger. He must not rush her.

"What would you like?" he asked, trying to be polite despite the husky unevenness in his voice. "Do you wish to go to the Pool now? Or tonight? Or we can wait until tomorrow? There is no need to hurry."

"Why would you wish to wait?" She turned her face toward him, her blue eyes clear and questioning and full of love.

"I do not wish to wait. I want only for you to be certain."

"Haldir, I am certain," she whispered. "Take me there, please."

His arm tightened around her. "Then let us go."

xxx

Amarië stood at Haldir's side, her fingers linked with his as they gazed at the Pool of Renewal, taking in the clear, crystalline glitter of the enchanted waters. Accessible only by a single staircase and hidden by dense foliage and flowering vines, it lay in a secluded corner of Caras Galadhon and was maintained by the power of Nenya, the ring of Adament. It was seldom used, and only at the Lady's discretion.

Guarded by large rocks, a waterfall tumbled softly and mellifluously at its furthest shore, though the origin of this water was unclear. To Amarië, it almost seemed as though the source came from the pool itself. Lush vegetation and fragrant flowers of every variety and color carpeted the ground and wound their way among the leaves of the surrounding trees. Flower petals floated lazily in the water. Birds sang overhead.

It was a paradise.

Haldir released her hand and slipped his arm around her waist. "I have never been in these waters. I've heard it is quite an experience."

"It is the most beautiful sight I've ever seen," she said sincerely.

He slanted a look at her, a purely masculine look that sent a thrill of pleasure coursing through her body. "I will say the same when you are in it."

She could feel herself blushing; her shyness had returned. "What can you tell me of this pool?" she asked to cover her confusion.

"Only that it heals the spirit, even wounds that are old and dim or long forgotten. Behind that waterfall is a place of privacy. We must swim out to reach it, but the water isn't deep." He was watching her face. "_Meleth_, what is it? Do you have second thoughts?"

"No second thoughts." She tried to smile. "It's only that I feel . . . a little awkward. I know it is foolish."

"Nay, I feel it as well. We will do nothing that makes you uncomfortable."

His sensitivity brought tears to her eyes. Never had a male spoken to her with such consideration. Never had she known anyone she could trust as much as she trusted Haldir. She turned into his arms and pressed her cheek to his shoulder, taking comfort in his strength and warmth and tangy male scent. Why was she behaving like a virgin? Perhaps because for the first time in a very long while she felt like one. And with him, she cared most deeply how this experience unfolded. She wanted it to go beautifully and perfectly. In her mind it was her first time because her heart and soul were involved.

He smoothed her hair. "We could leave our clothes on," he suggested, yet his voice lacked enthusiasm. "We are here to bathe and be healed. Nothing else is required."

She hid her smile, thinking him delightful. "Oh, but your tunic is so fine and new. You would not want to ruin it."

"True," he said, his tone thoughtful. "Nor do I think that gown would ever be the same."

"Perhaps not," she conceded. "And it was a gift from the Lady."

"What shall we do?" he asked, sounding casual and unconcerned.

She peeped up at him. "I think perhaps I would like to leave on my chemise, at least for now."

"What of me? I have no chemise to leave on."

"You could leave your leggings on," she said, only half teasing.

He gave her a quizzical look. "Is that your wish?"

"Well, I want you to be comfortable."

"Wet leggings are not comfortable," he informed her with dry humor.

"No, of course not." To her slight embarrassment, she found that she was blushing. "I know I am behaving foolishly. It is only that I want everything to be perfect. It is important to me."

"And to me." He stepped behind her, his hands on her shoulders. "Come, I will help you to remove your gown. Then you may enter the water while I disrobe."

His fingers undid the various fastenings and ties of her apparel with a skill that spoke of prior experience. "You are beautiful, meleth," he whispered, pushing aside her hair to brush his lips over the nape of her neck. "My beloved." The sweet endearments removed much of her embarrassment, replacing it with heart-thumping awareness.

Her gown fell to the ground at her feet, and she left it there as she stepped out of her shoes. The chemise was thin, but enough to guard her modesty. Glancing up, she saw his eyes, light and gray as morning mist upon the mountains, filled with clear longing. "The water should be warm," he said gently.

She knew it was his way of telling her to go, not to stand before him too long ere he lost control. Turning, she walked to the water's edge, then stepped into it until her feet were covered. She paused in surprise, feeling the water's texture, like tiny bubbles caressing and soothing and nurturing her toes. Daintily lifting her chemise, she waded farther out, up to her knees. The bottom of the pool was soft and smooth, pleasing beneath the soles of her feet.

Glancing back at Haldir, she stilled her movement, admiring him with a pleasure so swift and forceful it stole her breath away. He had removed both his outer and under tunics, and was neatly folding them, along with her gown. He had turned slightly, so that she saw him in profile while he bent to lay the garments on a rock. His silvery blond hair draped over his bared shoulders and muscular chest, and as he straightened gracefully, her heart gave a funny little skip at the sight of such sublime masculine beauty.

Was this what her mother had felt when she had first met her father? If so, at last she could understand a little of what it must have been like to love and lose an Elf. And then the sad thought flew away as he removed his boots and started to walk into the water wearing his leggings.

She covered her mouth, but failed to stifle her giggle. "You did leave them on!"

"Indeed. And already I regret it. I must look silly."

She shook her head, still giggling. "Nay, only wet."

"Ha! Well, that will soon make two of us." He waded toward her and lifted her into his arms. "This will teach you to laugh at me, my lady."

He spun her once around, then strode into the deeper water until it reached past his waist and she was half floating. "Shall I drop you?" he asked, his eyes glinting with laughter.

"Nay," she answered, automatically curling her arm around his neck. "If you do, I shan't let go."

"I do not want you to let go," he murmured. Then his face took on a look of stillness and wonderment. "Do you feel it, Amarië? The water is alive."

"Yes, I feel it."

They were both silent.

"It fills me with peace," he said, his voice awed. "More peace than I have ever known. All the pain I have ever felt is being lifted away from me."

She felt the same. In fact, it was as though emotions were sliding out of her, all the loneliness and rejection, the fear and misery and hatred.

Hatred for her mother. Was she ready to let this go?

"What is it?" He was watching her face. "Tell me."

"I hated her so much," she whispered in a shaking voice. "Eru help me, I hated my own mother so much for what she did to me."

He frowned. "What did she do?"

Amarië shifted in his arms, burrowing closer, burying her face against the comfort of his neck and silken hair. Little by little, with his help and gentle urging, she told him the story—of her mother's anguish over the loss of her elven lover, of the friendless years of her own childhood, of the beatings. Even harder, she told him of her mother's little business arrangements, the way she'd traded her daughter's favors for necessities. Other things just seemed to spill out, things she'd never told anyone. The brutality of her first sexual experience. Her mother's callous disregard for her fears and feelings. The coldness and lost humanity. The shifting of all responsibility onto Amarië's shoulders after her stepfather's death. Her struggle to care for Ennis.

By the time she finished, tears were streaming freely down her cheeks, tears he kissed away, over and over, with his warm and gentle lips. And all the time he had been cradling her, rocking her in the warm, enchanted water so that it swirled about them in lazy little waves and ripples.

"Let it go, _meleth_. It does no good to hold on to such hatred. That is why we are here, in this sacred place. Galadriel must have seen this in you." He kissed the top of her head, his voice as soothing as the water. "You have been very brave and I am so proud of you. Now you must let it go. Let the water do its work and be at peace, granddaughter of Celeborn. Try to feel compassion for your mother. She suffered greatly. For her, there was no healing pool."

"I know. I can see now. I can even imagine . . ." A great sob tore from her throat. "I can imagine how I would feel if you just walked away and left me. That is what my father did to her. He is the cause of all the pain."

"I will not walk away from you. You know that."

"I know."

"And we will soon be bound."

"Yes." She gulped, and swiped a hand across her cheek. "Yes," she added fiercely. "We will be bound. More than anything, that is what I want."

At once she sensed the change in his mood; his arms and body tensed in a way that sent a definite message. Deliberately, he waded toward the waterfall, still holding her as though she were a precious jewel. She felt cherished and loved beyond measure.

He had reached the curtain of water, and was moving around its edge, trying to avoid the spray, searching for an entrance that would not get them both drenched. Finally, he gave up, and with a small laugh, plunged straight through the sheet of water with her in his arms. They wiped the moisture from their eyes and looked around.

The crystalline walls of this tiny, concealed grotto sparkled with reflected light and water droplets. Beneath the water, there were stone steps, and at the top an angled ledge covered only by an inch of water at its center. Above the water line, set back into a recess, there were cushions.

He released her so she could set her feet down, then immediately reclaimed her, raining kisses over her face. "Amarië," he murmured, his hands gliding over her arms and back and hips, tracing her contours with an urgency that made her shiver. _"Amarië, meleth, meril vain nín, bereth-en-faer nín."_

_"Le melin,"_ she told him fervently, her palms sliding over the defined ridges of his pale, smooth chest. If he had ever been wounded in battle, it did not show. Elves did not scar, so every inch of him was as flawless as marble, as pure as the morning sunrise.

He was exquisite, immaculate, achingly beautiful. Godlike in his perfection.

He tugged aside the strap of her chemise, his lips and tongue trailing over the wet, bared flesh of her shoulder. His mouth slid to her throat, opening to taste her as she moved her hands to his back, spreading them across the hard expanse of warm flesh and taut muscle. She pulled him closer, exulting in the feel of his male readiness, jutting proudly against her stomach through their twin layers of clothing.

Her heart fluttered as his mouth captured hers, his tongue mating with her tongue, exploring her soft recesses, stirring her to an aching tremble. She saw his dark eyelashes, lowered as he explored, his eyes taking in details while his hands and mouth made her quiver. With torturous slowness, he stroked the curves of her body in sensual circles.

A dreamlike sensation took hold, mingling with sensual reality. This perfect immortal being had chosen her. And somehow, beyond any reason she could comprehend, she had been allowed to choose him. They were destined for one another; Galadriel had said so. It seemed too fantastic, too wonderful to be true, and yet she knew it was true.

Haldir watched her, noting the way her eyes slid shut and the tiny tremors caught hold of her body as he caressed her. She was still wearing the chemise, but in truth he did not mind. It stirred his senses, for it was quite sheer when wet, something he did not think she realized. It was one reason he had not objected to her decision to keep it on. He would tell her that later, perhaps.

Still watching her face, he explored her, sliding his hands beneath the chemise, pushing it up, feeling the softness of her legs, the sleek velvet skin of her thighs surrendering to him with sweet compliance. So feminine and lovely . . .

Suddenly, her eyes flew open. "Are you certain that what we're doing is permitted? You said this was a sacred pool."

Surprised, he paused, noting her worried look. "What could be more sacred than this? To an Elf, a binding is the most sacred of acts." Still, she did not look convinced. "Yes, it is permitted, meleth," he added with great tenderness. "I think this is exactly what Galadriel had in mind for us."

Tremendous love for her welled in his chest. She was infinitely sweet, beguilingly modest, enticingly sensual. Perfect and pure. And to think how she had suffered!

Quite honestly, he was horrified by the events she had related to him, but he had hidden it, sensing that her need for comfort outweighed his need to express outrage. It pained him greatly to imagine what she had endured. Long had he known that mortals were strange, inferior creatures, but to treat one of their own kind with such cruelty! Her story had only reaffirmed his long-held belief that Elves and humankind should not mix. He certainly intended to see that she never again experienced such pain.

He wanted so much to go slowly, but his need for her was very great. Too long had he waited, yearning for her, dreaming of her. He could scarcely control himself. She had wrapped her legs around him, her body pressed against his arousal, and it was stimulating him nearly past the point of his endurance. Dizzy with need, his heart beating wildly, he slid his palms up her ribcage to cup her breasts, his thumbs teasing their tender tips.

"Haldir, _meleth_, I know what you feel," she whispered. "We are connected. I know you need me right now. I would give myself to you at this moment."

He drew back to look at her, his dark brows lifted. "And I know you are not yet ready. Our connection works both ways."

"It matters not. I would give you this gift. There is time enough for me." Her voice took on a teasing note. "Besides, I have heard some very interesting tales about Elves."

"Such as?" he asked, curious despite his raging need.

"I know not if I should tell you. Perhaps a hint?"

"A hint would probably suffice."

Her eyes twinkled. "I have heard that elven arrows are in all respects superior to those of Men."

Despite the aching pressure of his condition, he grinned. "I have no doubt of this. And Galadhrim arrows are best of all."

"Then I know my desires will be attended to," she told him playfully, "as you once informed me. So let me see to yours."

He felt her hands at the ties to his leggings and shifted to give her better access. Within moments, the sodden garment was discarded. Her hand touched him briefly, but he moaned and caught her wrist. "Don't. I cannot . . ."

"I know," she whispered, twining her legs around him once more. "Take me now."

The sweet, provocative invitation nearly finished him. Still, he hesitated, searching her eyes. "Are you sure? I could try to wait . . ."

"Do not wait. I am sure."

His whole body burned with desire for her and she knew it. Never had anyone been so concerned about his needs. How he loved her! Gazing into her blue eyes, he spoke his sacred vow to her. "With this act, I bind myself to you, Amarië, for all eternity."

And then he drove himself into her in one smooth motion. Muscles trembling, he forced himself to pause when he was completely inside her. He wanted to stop, to court her slowly, to savor this experience, but he could not. All the long ages of his life had he waited for her, and his body shook with accumulated need and desire for his life-mate. He had to move. He drew back, then pressed into her again, the blood pounding in his veins. He paused once more, breathing hard, trying to wait for her . . . sweet, unbearable agony.

"Amarië . . ." he panted.

"It's all right, _meleth nín_," she whispered. "Do not wait for me. I will follow later."

And then she did something guaranteed to send him over the edge—she touched the peaks of both his ears, simultaneously stroking their sensitive tips. With a great gasping moan, he exploded, exquisite fire searing through his body in thunderous, pulsating waves of sensation. Breathing hard, he clutched her tightly, his eyes shut, his open mouth pressed against her wet hair. Never, never had he imagined it could be like this! Truly must their Fëar be mated for this experience to be so glorious!

"It is done, Amarië," he murmured, when at last he could speak again. "We are bound to each other. You are now my wife."

"And you are my husband." She kissed the side of his head, tenderly stroking his hair and cheek. "Long has my heart waited for this moment, Haldir of Lórien."

"As has mine, Amarië," he said huskily. "And in just a few moments, I will attend to your needs to the very best of my ability. Already my Galadhrim arrow stirs . . ."

tbc

Elvish Phrases:

Le melin - Thee I love  
meleth, meleth nín - love, my love  
meril vain nín - my beautiful rose  
bereth-en-faer nín - queen of my soul


	12. Completion

**Part 11 – Completion**

"Already my Galadhrim arrow stirs . . ."

As he spoke these words, he slipped himself out of her with a sweet, lopsided smile, one arm still clasping her close to his chest.

She lowered her legs to the underwater floor of the grotto and leaned up to give him a kiss on the chin. "I have great faith in the distinguished Captain of the Galadhrim," she said demurely.

He lowered his head and nuzzled her ear, his voice both amused and apologetic. "Distinguished or not, I know I missed the mark. I am sorry. I did not intend to be so weak. I will make it up to you now."

"You are not weak," she murmured, her breath quickening as he moved his lips to the tender spot beneath her ear, then trailed down the line of her jaw, dropping tender little kisses as he went. She closed her eyes. "You are so strong it takes my breath away."

She would have said more but he suddenly cupped her face with his hands and covered her mouth with his. This kiss was more fierce, more possessive than any he had given her before. It was a kiss that spoke of renewed desire, a desire that almost shocked her but did not because she felt it too, the bone-melting intensity of it.

The passion and love behind it.

When at last he released her, his eyes were smiling. "I love kissing you," he murmured, his tone low and husky. "And I love touching you."

Without warning, he lifted her up to the first underwater step, so that she stood just a little above him, her chemise plastered to her skin. She steadied herself with her hands on his shoulders as his hungry mouth dipped into the hollow of her throat, then sought the crevice between her breasts, licking the droplets of water that had settled there.

"Amarië," he whispered, between kisses. "Amarië. _Meril vain nín_."

She inhaled sharply as he transferred his attention to first one nipple and then the other, where they still lay hidden beneath the fabric. Spirals of desire shot through her body as he played little games, circling them with his tongue, nipping her lightly.

He flashed her a look, a smoldering challenge in the gray depths of his eyes. "The time for modesty is past. As pretty as this garment is, it is beginning to impede my progress. I want to see my wife." It was neither command nor request but a simple statement of fact, and she was not about to deny him.

She helped him as he lifted the dripping garment over her head and cast it aside, blushing slightly as, for a long moment, he simply gazed her, taking her in with the thoroughness that seemed to be a part of his nature. "_Meleth_, you are so beautiful," he said softly. "So pure and lovely and flawless."

Then he joined her on the step, dragging her closer, his mouth taking hers once more, his tongue hot and eager, his hands growing so bold she thought she would die of the pleasure he roused. Everywhere he touched her, she burned with longing for him. She clutched him, her hands roving in some wild, primal effort to memorize every part of him with her fingertips, reveling in the planes and angles and hard, muscled ridges of his male shape. "Haldir," she whispered. "_Le melin . . . le melin_ . . ."

Then he was lifting her, whispering sweet phrases as he placed her down so tenderly upon the upper ledge and reached for the cushions, settling one under her head, and another beneath his knees where he knelt between her legs. For an instant she thought he meant to enter her, but instead he continued his thorough and erotic exploration of her breasts, her hips, and the soft, sensitive flesh of her inner thighs. Surrendering to his mastery, she moaned as his hands and mouth caressed her, stroking and teasing her flesh, her secret places, until her whole being was a burning, quivering mass of pure wanting. Her heart pumped wildly as reality whirled away like a meaningless mote of dust. The outside world did not exist; all that was real was him.

And he was hers. At last, at last she had the lover she had always yearned for, a strong and loving mate, a beloved of her own for all time.

Haldir, the Guardian of Lórien. Her husband. Hers.

"Amarië, _meleth_, tell me what you want. What you wish me to do."

"You know what I want," she whispered, squirming with desire for him.

"Yes, I know. I want to hear you say it."

"Come inside me, Haldir. I can wait no longer. I am ready to fly."

He gave a soft, shaky chuckle. "As am I. This time we will fly together."

She gasped as he lowered his body over hers and thrust into her, sending shockwaves of sensation throughout her entire being. She was drowning in pleasure, her hands gripping his shoulders, his arms, her body arching and shuddering as each of his long strokes filled her, building the unbearable tension, possessing her with each powerful slide of his body against hers.

But it was his face she watched, his wise gray eyes, the way they stayed linked to hers, holding an expression of reassurance, joy, fulfillment, reverence, and other emotions so sacrosanct they were beyond description. If anything the connection between them had amplified so that she felt as though they were two people with one magnificent, merged soul. Who she was became of small meaning; all that remained was this fierce, savage aching for him and him alone. And then it happened, as if they leaped off some great cliff and were soaring, melded together in a great, ecstatic conflagration that went far beyond earthly reality, completing her in a way she had never before been completed. She cried out his name, clutching him tightly, never wanting to let go.

Afterward, he was still looking into her eyes, panting as she panted, then his mouth came to hers in one more kiss that somehow extended the blissful waves of satisfaction to an even greater height.

"Ah," he finally murmured, resting his weight on his elbows, his brow pressed to hers, "Amarië, you are so sweet, so warm and giving. But I fear you have finished me for the moment. I am utterly spent."

"Only for the moment?" she teased, her fingers in his hair, straightening and rearranging the position of his elven braids.

"Indeed." He lifted his head, his smile roguish. "In this area, I am beginning to think I do not yet know my full potential. I will enjoy investigating this matter with you."

She smiled and kissed the tip of his nose. "You know, when first I met you, I never dreamed you had a sense of humor."

"Oh?" He feigned a look of injury. "In all these tales of elves you have heard, did no one ever tell you that we are renowned for our wit and playfulness?"

"Yes, but you must admit you were trying to intimidate me."

"That is part of my duty, _meleth_, to intimidate mortals and keep them away from Lothlórien. Most of them cooperate and become properly intimidated."

"But not I," she said smugly.

"Not you," he agreed. "No doubt it is your elven blood that redeems you. No, do not glare at me like that. You must learn to recognize when I am joking."

"I have so much to learn," she said with a sigh. "About you and from you."

"We will have eternity to do it," he reminded her in a contented voice. He shifted, removing himself from her body, and stretched out beside her, his head propped on his hand with his other arm wrapped around her waist. "My wife," he added softly.

She turned toward him, a small smile playing at the edges of her mouth. "So what happens if I do this—" she wriggled up and touched the tip of his ear with her tongue, "when you are spent and tired? That is one question on my mind."

He shuddered slightly, and his arm tightened around her waist. "You really want to know the answer to that question?"

"Yes, I do." She repeated the action, fascinated by his ear's delicate pointed tip.

"You find yourself in big trouble. No one toys with the Marchwarden of the Golden Wood and gets away with it."

"Not even the Marchwarden's wife?" She took the tip of his ear into her mouth and felt him jump.

"That does it," he said with a growl. "The Marchwarden's wife needs to be taught another lesson in archery."

And for the next while, they were very much occupied with that lesson.

xxx

It was nearly dark when they finally left the Pool of Renewal. Haldir struggled to pull on his wet leggings, grumbling a little as they stuck to his flesh. They felt horrible, and he found himself hoping he could reach his rooms without being seen.

"I do not think anyone will notice," Amarië reassured him, "since you have squeezed all the water from them." She was obviously highly amused, probably because she was not in a similar predicament. She was wearing her gown, but carrying her wet chemise, which she had rolled up into a tiny, unnoticeable bundle.

"That's easy for you to say," he told her with a grimace. "What if one of my brothers sees me? I will never hear the end of it. Their teasing knows no limits."

He could tell she was trying not to giggle. "You can just stand behind me and they will not notice," she said.

"Never have I hidden behind a female's skirts," he told her dryly. Then he grinned and caught her around the waist. "What can I do to make you stop laughing at me?"

"I'm not laughing at you, meleth. It is only that my heart is filled with joy."

He regarded her with great tenderness. "And mine also. Never have I known such joy as I have felt this day." He stooped down and plucked a large red flower, and tucked it behind her ear.

"Are you hungry?" she asked.

Arching a brow, he looked her up and down. "You mean for food?"

"Yes, that was what I meant!" She punched him lightly on the arm. "What did you think?"

"I dare not say," he answered, hiding another grin. How she delighted him! Never had he experienced the powerful amorous urges that he had this day, nor the contentment and the peace he now felt. Never had he imagined that love could be like this. He supposed that it was good he had not known, or all those years alone would have been so much harder to endure. But that was over now, and there was no need to dwell on such thoughts. He had found his life-mate!

"Actually, I am hungry," he admitted as they mounted the steps side by side. "Are you?"

"Yes."

"I have food in my rooms. We can eat there, and transfer your belongings later." The stairs were narrow, and he had to hug her close. "I am assuming you would wish to be with me?"

She cast him one of those mischievous glances he had grown to love. "You may safely assume that. May I also assume that I am now welcome on the practice fields?"

He pretended to consider. "That I have yet to decide. You might prove too much of a distraction."

"A distraction? What do you mean? They are all used to me there." They had reached the top of the steps and were continuing down a pathway to yet another set of steps.

"I was speaking of myself," he said. "How could I focus on training or combat if you were there? I would be making love to you instead."

"Now that is nonsense," she scoffed. "You are too fine a warrior for that."

Smiling proudly, he pulled her close, kissing her on the cheek. "You are right about that. Yes, you may come, and you may practice if you like. I may even allow you to try a Galadhrim bow if you are very good." He squeezed her waist. "Which reminds me, I noticed Ferodir taking a few liberties with you while I was fighting your brother."

She glanced at him. "There was nothing I could do to prevent him. I wanted to break up that fight and he would not let me."

He frowned a little. "That would have been most unwise. You must never again attempt such a thing. As for Ferodir, he will not trouble you again with such boldness. He respects the sanctity of a binding as much as any elf. Although I expect he will continue to flirt," he added with a sigh. "It is ever his way."

She was silent for a moment. Then she said, "Why did you allow Ennis to hit you? I know you could have prevented it if you wished."

"Shall I give you the true reason?" he asked, glancing down at her.

"Of course," she said, sounding surprised.

"If I dealt with him as I was capable of doing, I feared you would despise me even more than you already did. And even if you did despise me, I could not bring myself to do something I knew would cause you pain."

"I never despised you, Haldir," she said quietly, "but I did not want either of you to be hurt. To see you hurt caused me much pain."

"Well, we could scarcely have fought without one of us being hurt," he pointed out in his logical way. "And young Ennis is much happier now. It was good for him to challenge me. He has more confidence, and it is showing in his skills."

Against all odds they had reached the level of her talan without passing anyone. "I will go and change," she said, her hand on his arm, "and then come up to you."

"Very well." He kissed her lips, then continued on to his own quarters, sighing in mild annoyance as he noticed the lamplight shining through his own arched window. It appeared his luck had run out. He had company waiting for him, and he had no doubt at all who it was.

As he suspected, he found Rúmil and Orophin lounging in his chairs, making free use of his ale while they tossed a set of dice upon his table, making foolish wagers with each throw. Ordinarily he would have been glad to see them, but not this night. All he longed to do was to get out of his wet, itchy leggings and into dry clothes.

Rúmil looked up when he walked in, and immediately raised his brows. "By Elbereth, what happened to you? Did you fall into the Anduin?"

Orophin glanced over his shoulder, then rotated all the way around to stare. "If so, he removed his tunic before he fell. What have you been doing, brother?"

"It is none of your affair," Haldir replied, feeling a little cross. "Perhaps you might take yourselves elsewhere and give me some peace."

Rúmil rose to his feet, his gaze fixed on Haldir. "Orophin, look at his eyes."

Both Orophin and Rúmil approached Haldir, who waited in resignation for the inevitable. Huge, delighted grins spread across the faces of his brothers.

"You've done it!" Orophin exclaimed.

"You have bound yourself to her!" Rúmil slapped Haldir on the back. "Congratulations!"

Haldir found himself smiling, despite his slight embarrassment. He was still glowing with happiness, and it was good to be able to share that with his brothers. As he had told Amarië, there could be no hiding the fact that they had bound. All elves could tell such things at a glance. It always showed in the eyes.

"We are very glad for you," Orophin added, then cast a meaningful look at Rúmil. "And I am particularly glad you did not wait another week!"

Rúmil's grin changed to a look of chagrin. "Ah, yes. Well, that is the fun of wagers. Sometimes I win and sometimes I lose."

Haldir rolled his eyes. "Have you been wagering on us again?"

"Well, it was obvious you two were going to bind to one another," Orophin explained. "All we wagered on was when."

"It was not obvious to me," Haldir said dryly.

"To Ferodir and to us, it was quite evident. You were always sneaking peeks at each other. And you wore such long faces when you were angry with each other. And then the mysterious connection between you! It has been quite amusing to watch the progression of this courtship."

Haldir sat down in one of his chairs, and proceeded to pull off his boots. "I'm glad my suffering has provided you with entertainment. At least it served some useful purpose."

"Nay," Rúmil responded, walking over to lay his hand on Haldir's shoulder, "we did not find amusement in your pain. Never think that, dear brother. If it had gone on much longer, Orophin and I would have taken matters into our own hands."

Haldir grimaced at the thought of what his brothers might have concocted. "I thank the Valar it did not come to that."

"And we are very happy to have a sister," Orophin added cheerfully. "Now are you going to tell us why you are wet?"

"No." Haldir glared at him.

"Did you go swimming with your leggings on?" Rúmil prodded.

"Why would he have done that?" Orophin asked. "Unless—"

"Unless what?" Rúmil asked, raising an inquiring brow.

Orophin gave a shout of laughter as understanding dawned. "You were trying to spare her blushes, weren't you? Ha! Now there is a story to keep us entertained on cold, lonely nights when we are on watch. I wish I could have seen it!"

Rúmil grinned broadly. "I'll wager the leggings did not stay on for very long!"

Haldir could feel himself turning red. "We went to the Pool of Renewal," he said stiffly, "at Galadriel's behest. It was for Amarië's benefit."

Both his brothers looked impressed by this information.

"What was it like?" Rúmil asked. "I have often wondered."

Recalling the wondrous experience, Haldir stared off into space. "It was amazing. To me, it seemed as though the water held a living power. It soothed away all pain, all despair, all loneliness . . ." With effort, he pulled his focus back to his brothers. "It was good for Amarië," he added gruffly. "She has suffered much."

Orophin's eyes narrowed, his expression pensive. "And for you too," he said wisely. "Else the Lady would not have sent you there."

"Indeed," Rúmil agreed, his voice more serious than before. "And we are very glad for you. We have sensed your unhappiness for a long time now."

Haldir looked toward the door. Amarië was approaching; he could feel it. "I am grateful for such sentiments . . ."

She slipped gracefully into the room without knocking, then halted in surprise when she saw that he was not alone. Whatever Haldir had been going to say to Rúmil flew from his mind. He could only gaze at her, drinking in the sight of her as though she'd been gone from him for an age. She now wore a lovely white gown he had not seen before, so simple and exquisite he knew Galadriel and Celeborn had gifted it to indicate her status as Celeborn's granddaughter. And not only had she worn it on their binding day, but she still had his flower in her hair! She looked so breathtakingly beautiful, his heart felt squeezed by the intensity of his love for her.

He suddenly realized that both his brothers were watching him, reading his emotion as clearly as if he had spoken it aloud. Embarrassed, he rose to his feet and frowned at them, but the moment passed as Amarië said calmly, "Rúmil, Orophin, I am pleased to see you. Has Haldir told you our glad tidings?"

Rúmil walked over and kissed her on the brow. "He did not need to, little sister. We could see it in his eyes. And in yours. A binding is not something that can be hidden. We are very happy for you both."

Orophin chose to touch his heart and kiss her hand. "Sweet sister Amarië, welcome to our family. We rejoice in your happiness. We must celebrate this binding with an evening of music and dancing. Rúmil and I will arrange it."

Haldir opened his mouth to object, but Amarië forestalled him.

"That would be lovely," she replied. "I would enjoy a chance to dance with my husband. Is he a good dancer?"

"That is open for debate," Orophin answered with a grin. "I think it depends on his partner."

"And I could read some of my love poems—" Rúmil put in.

"NO!" said Haldir and Orophin in unison.

Amarië glanced at each of them in turn. "Why ever not? I think it would be lovely to hear some of Rúmil's poetry."

Rúmil smirked. "You see? Your bride would like to hear my poems. Would you deny her that pleasure?"

Haldir snorted. "I would not deny her if I thought it would be a pleasure."

Orophin laughed.

"I did not think my poetry was that bad." Rúmil looked wounded.

Amarië smiled at Rúmil. "Dear Rúmil, I would be honored to listen to your poems. Of course you may read them at our celebration. It is very kind of you to offer."

Rúmil flashed his brothers a triumphant look and headed for the door.

Orophin cleared his throat. "Rúmil, aren't you forgetting something?"

Rúmil paused. "What could I be forgetting?"

"Our brother's boots. You lost our wager, remember? And now you have to clean Haldir's boots for a month. And mine for two months."

"What a pleasant surprise," Haldir commented sardonically. "Perhaps it may prove a partial compensation for having to listen to more poetry." He picked up his boots and walked over to Rúmil. "Here, dear brother. I shall need them back by the morning sunrise."

Rúmil sighed and accepted the boots. "Oh, very well." He left, followed by a grinning Orophin.

"What did they wager about?" Amarië asked.

"You do not want to know," Haldir assured her. He looked at her for a moment, then made a wry face. "Forgive me, _meleth_, but I have not yet had time to change out of this wet apparel."

"Do you need any help?" she asked him innocently.

He grinned his delight. "Nay, my sweet bride. Not this time. Perhaps later."

xxx

An hour later, they had finished their dinner, and were merely sitting, their hands clasped together as they gazed at each other across the table in the flickering candlelight. Beneath the table, their bared feet were nested together, which for some reason made the moment quite complete, as though the dual touching of hands and feet completed a circle that could never be broken.

"This has been the happiest day of my life," Haldir said tenderly.

"And mine." She squeezed his fingers. "I must go and tell my brother of our binding, and I do not want to wait until tomorrow. Will you come with me?"

Although she very much hoped he would say yes, she would not have blamed him if he refused. Even though Ennis's attitude about elves and the Marchwarden seemed to have softened, she knew that her brother might not hesitate to express his disapproval over the haste of their marriage.

"Of course I will go with you," he replied, his gray eyes somber. "In fact, I would not allow you to go alone while Rufus is there. I believe he took my threats seriously, but I would never take chances with your safety. Also, I promised to kill him if he so much as speaks to you, and he is less likely to do that if I am near." His lips tightened. "Not that I would mind killing him, but I would not want to spoil my memories of this perfect day."

She shivered at both his words and her own memory of the attack. Still, and quite amazingly, much of the horror of that attack had already faded, as though it had happened long ago and to someone else. No longer did her spirit feel fragile; this day it had been strengthened and healed and rejuvenated, as much by her binding with Haldir as by the power of Galadriel's pool. And though she no longer feared Rufus, judging from the unyielding expression on Haldir's face, he would brook no argument on this matter.

He must have seen her shiver, for he was frowning. "I should not have spoken so. I am sorry. But you know that I have killed, and will do so many times again."

"I know. I have killed too, but only Orcs." She smiled a little sadly. "Perhaps someday these days of killing will be behind us."

"When we go to Valinor," he agreed. "But that will not be soon. There is still much for me to do in this world."

They sat in silence for a few moments, and then he smiled. "Come, let us go and face your brother. Do you think he will attack me when he learns you are my wife?"

"Nay, but I think he will be surprised. I know not what he will say."

Haldir looked around for his spare set of boots and his sword. "Neither do I, but I can imagine," he replied, rather wryly.

He kept his arm around her as they descended through the city, not caring if anyone saw. Rúmil and Orophin would spread the news fast enough; there was no point in trying to conceal it. He just wanted to keep touching her, and saw no reason not to do so. She was his wife! He could scarcely believe it.

Eventually they came upon Ennis, sitting with a group of men, but when he noticed Amarië and Haldir, he rose at once and came over to them. His curious gaze switched back and forth between their faces. "So you are together," he observed. "You are speaking to each other? You are no longer angry?"

Haldir lifted his brows, unintentionally slipping into the haughty manner he assumed around the mortals. "Yes, we have resolved our differences." Thank the Valar, he added silently.

"Ennis, we have something to tell you," Amarië told him in a gentle voice.

Ennis's brows snapped together. "What?"

Haldir thought he sounded wary, and braced himself for an angry outburst. He could not help being grateful that his wife's brother would not be residing permanently in Lórien, yet he also knew it would be sad and difficult for her to bid farewell to all the family she had left. It was quite possible she might never see her brother again once he was gone, and the thought of Amarië's distress pained him. He would do all in his power to comfort her when the time came.

Haldir felt Amarië reach out and take hold of his hand, linking her fingers through his. "Haldir and I have married," she said. "And I hope you will wish us happy."

"Married!" Ennis looked incredulous. "How can this be? You've only just met each other!"

Though it was not easy, Haldir tried to make his tone conciliating. "Your sister and I are Fëa-mates. That will mean nothing to you, but it means a great deal to us."

"Fëa-mates? You are right; it means nothing to me." Ennis walked a few steps away from them, the set of his shoulders rigid. He seemed to be struggling with his emotions, and Haldir was conscious of a brief flash of empathy. Then Ennis swung around, and came back to stand before the Marchwarden. "Do you love her?" he said fiercely.

Haldir did not much care to discuss his feelings with the young mortal, yet he understood it was important to Amarië's brother to know the truth. "Yes, I do," he answered, as forthrightly as he was able. "She is the one I have waited for, the love of my life."

Ennis stared at him, his eyes unblinking as though he sought to judge if Haldir lied. Finally, he shifted his gaze to Amarië. "And you love him? You think you will be happy with him?"

"Yes, I do. Already I am happier than I have ever been in my life. Is that not what you wanted for me?"

"Aye, it is." Ennis frowned. "But why was I not invited to the ceremony?"

Haldir almost choked at the idea. "Elven bindings are conducted differently from human marriages," he said blightingly. Amarië's fingers tightened against his own, warning him to be careful.

"Oh? Still, I am her brother. I would have expected to be included."

Amarië touched her brother's arm. "I am sorry, Ennis. It was impossible."

"Because I am not an elf?" Ennis asked with indignation.

"No one was invited," Haldir stated testily. "It has nothing to do with you not being an elf."

"However," Amarië added in a kinder tone, "Haldir's brothers are going to arrange a celebration, and you may come to that."

"Only you," Haldir put in quickly. "Not the other mortals."

Ennis heaved a sigh. "Oh, very well. I must tell you that I am not convinced this marriage is a wise idea. But I also know there is much I do not understand, especially where elves are concerned." His eyes locked on Amarië. "At least when it is time for me to leave this place, I will not be so worried about you. The Marchwarden seems to be a superior elf, even if he is a bit standoffish and stuffy. This was what you wanted, was it not? To belong somewhere? And with someone who would love and care for you?"

Haldir glanced at Amarië, and saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes. "Yes, it is, Ennis. And I have finally found that someone."

xxx

A little while later, Haldir carried his bride through the front chamber of his quarters into the rear room, which served as his sleeping chamber. He had never bothered to do much decoration and now regretted it, for he knew that it was quite plain.

"It is not much," he commented as he set her down beside his bed. "If there is anything you wish to change, it would be fine with me." Pulling off his boots, he watching her carefully, a bit worried she would think him lacking in some vital area. But to his relief, she only smiled and threw her arms around his neck.

"It is perfect," she said, her voice so loving his heart flipped over, "because it is yours. I have only one question. Why is your bed so much larger than the one I was given?"

"Because I am the Marchwarden," he told her with a grin. "Rank yields certain benefits, you know."

"And you have shared it with many ellith," she added matter-of-factly.

He shifted uncomfortably. "I told you I'd had lovers—"

"Oh, Haldir, meleth, do not think that I am jealous. I bless each and every one of them who kept you company. You have not told me your age, but I can guess. If I thought you had been alone all these years, my heart would break."

He felt rather stunned. "This is how you truly feel?"

"Yes, it is." She pressed her weight against him, and he allowed her to push him backward onto the bed. Laughing, she crawled on top of him and kissed him on the lips. "However, there will be no others now, of course."

"How could I ever want anyone but you?" he replied, gazing up at her with complete adoration.

"And I would never want anyone but you," she replied. She snuggled down beside him and put her head on his shoulder. "Besides, you have nice feet."

"I do?" He looked down at his feet.

"Yes, you do. And nice hands. And a nice nose and chin." She lifted her head to gaze playfully down at him. "And your eyes are extremely fine. You really are a very handsome elf."

"Well, I am glad you think so," he said, absurdly pleased and touched by the sincerity of her words. He did not receive many compliments on his looks.

"I do."

"Do you think I am standoffish and stuffy?"

"Sometimes," she told him lovingly.

He thought about this for a while and decided it did not merit concern. 

"Do you know what?" he asked.

"What, meleth?"

"I am no longer feeling spent."

He saw the corners of her lips curve into a small, bewitching smile. "I did not think you were."

tbc

Elvish Phrases:

Le melin - Thee I love  
meleth, meleth nín: love, my love  
meril vain nín - my beautiful rose  
ellith – female elves, plural


	13. Games

**Part 12 – Games**

_Cormamin lindua ele lle, meleth nín.  
_  
_Adar, where are you?_

_I am here._ Reaching through the blinding light, his strong hands closed over hers, drawing her close, enfolding her, infusing her with the fullness of his love.

Leading her higher, to a place where thoughts could speak. No pain at all.  
_  
Gerich veleth nín, Amarië._

_Gerich veleth nín, Adar._

_Such joy I feel for you. You have found him._

Yes. He is my beloved.  
  
She could smell his sweet familiar scent, feel the silken slide of his hair against her cheek. Celebrenin. Her father. The cause of so much pain.

_Why did you leave her?_

Dazzling, light-dappled colors swirled around them—cobalt, amethyst, indigo. Spun by currents of golden air.

He touched his heart. _I was wrong. Forgive me. I knew not._

_Adar, I forgive you. _She stroked the plane of his cheek.

_Light has more power than darkness. Know this and remember.  
_  
Her fingers twined his shimmering hair. _Why? Why must I know this?_

_You seek the Truth. Look there.  
_  
Far below, crawling shadows. Claws of darkness. Fire and blood.

_I am afraid._ Her hands gripped him. _For him! Afraid for him!  
_  
_He will call to you. You must be ready.  
_  
The bladed tooth, the gaping mouth. Spewing, spawning malice.

Tears, even in this peaceful place. _What must I do? What?  
_  
_This lesson I have taught you, my daughter. Your heart holds this knowledge._

But I remember not!  
  
His lips upon her brow, brushing lightly. You will remember. _Heed the Lady when she calls. She knows._

Galadriel?  
  
_Be strong, Amarië. I am here for you and your beloved. The Valar have granted us this one chance._

And then what? Adar?  
  
Silence.

xxx

Haldir watched Amarië as she slept, moaning and tossing from whatever dream had her in its hold. He wondered if he should wake her, but decided against it. Her father spoke to her in dreams; he did not feel it was his place to interrupt. He gazed at her face. Even in the darkness, he could see how beautiful she was, how feminine and perfect, as though she had been conjured from his own personal fantasies. Truly must the Valar have some small fondness for him to have granted him this blessing. Perhaps his many years of service had indeed been noticed.

He reached out and lifted a lock of her hair, bringing it to his lips as he had longed to do ever since the night he first set eyes on her. He smiled as he remembered how she had tried to tempt him and nearly succeeded. At the time he had been mortified because in his heart he knew how close he had come to losing his control in front of his fellow wardens. Thank Elbereth he had resisted.

And yet, if he had done so, would it have been so very bad? After all, his fëa had already been mated to hers at that moment of their first meeting. It was no wonder he had reacted in such an uncharacteristic manner.

He sighed inwardly, aware of the conflict within himself. Never before had the burdens of his position troubled him. He considered himself a hardened warrior, inured to the demands and sacrifices of his chosen life. For millennia he had lived with danger. He had meted out death. He had slain without mercy, although never without justification. He had not always been kind, but never had he been deliberately cruel. And now he found himself in the position where he only wanted to protect what he and Amarië had created together. For the first time in his long life, he knew a twinge of fear.

Was that what love did? He had thought himself courageous, but had he really been so? What constituted courage? Could one be courageous if one had nothing to lose but one's own life? Now that he had acquired someone precious to him, would he know fear in battle? Would he be weak? And if he were slain, what would happen to Amarië? Would she die too? He suspected so quite strongly.

He sighed and lay back on the pillow, knowing it served no purpose to dwell on such matters right now. Perhaps he would seek an audience with the Lady. And perhaps, for once, she would give him answers that would satisfy him.

Suddenly, Amarië's body jerked and she awoke. He stared at her in the darkness, observing her widened eyes and quickened breathing. "You dreamed?" he said softly.

She reached out to him as though she had been doing it all her life. "Yes," she breathed, as they wrapped their arms around each other.

"Do you wish to speak of it?"

She settled her head on his bare chest. "My father came to me again. He showed me things. Frightening things." He could feel her tremble, and he stroked his hand over her back to soothe her. "He has been teaching me something I need to know, and yet do not remember. It has to do with you."

"With me?"

"I know not what it is. He says I have the knowledge I need."

Haldir was silent. He could think of no words to say.

"Already the memory slides away. All I remember are colors, the feel of his hair."

"Then let it go. If it is as he says, you will remember when the time is right."

"Yes." She sounded uncertain.

"Sleep." He smoothed her hair. "And know that I am with you."

Within a few minutes, he could tell that she had indeed fallen back asleep. Trying not to think about her words or what they might mean, he allowed himself to drift into the meditative state that was the elven form of sleep.

xxx

Amarië awoke with a start to find herself alone in the bed. To her disappointment, Haldir had already risen and dressed, and was in the process of putting on his freshly cleaned boots. She drew the sheet around her and sat up. "Were you not going to wake me?"

He glanced up, and smiled. "I thought about it. But you looked so peaceful, I did not wish to disturb you. There is food on the table. Shall I wait for you?"

"You are going to the training area?" At his nod, she added with a small smile, "Would you prefer I wear the white gown or this sheet?"

He tossed her a small package. "These are Rúmil's. They should do for now. Mine would be too large for you. Your boots are by the door."

She opened it and found leggings and tunics. "You think of everything." How had he known that she would not wish to wear her own?

"I will be outside," he said. "I think it would be best if I did not linger while you dress." He laughed outright at her expression, then came over and caught her chin in his hand. "Do not pout, meleth. I will not neglect you all day." He bent and pressed his mouth to hers. She parted her lips, an invitation to change his mind, but he drew back with a lazy grin and ruffled her hair. "Our binding celebration will be tonight. My brothers have been busy. I will give you my full attention then, my own fair temptress."

She smiled sheepishly. "If you wait, I will hurry."

He gave a small nod. "I will wait. Be sure to eat."

"Yes, milord," she answered pertly.

A short while later, they made their way together through the stairs and bridges and walkways of the city. Now and then they were greeted by early rising elves, each of whom offered them congratulations and smiles.

One of the first of these was Lornarië. "Your surprise comes as no surprise to me," she told them with a knowing look. "Ferodir and I could see there was something between you two. In fact, I knew from the first day," she boasted to Haldir, "when she told me you were going to give her an archery lesson! I suspected right then what was afoot. I told her our Marchwarden does not hand out archery lessons to just any female."

Haldir's fingers closed over Amarië's elbow just quickly enough and firmly enough to prevent her from giving way to bubbling mirth. She bit her tongue, her insides quivering, as he smoothly responded, "Shall we see you this evening at our celebration?"

"Oh, I would not miss it!" Lornarië assured them. "I intend to take the bride's brother under my wing since I am one of the few who speak his tongue. I hope he is handsome?"

Wondering what Ennis would think of Lornarië, Amarië suppressed her amusement. "Yes, I would say he is handsome," she said. "Dark hair, blue eyes, tall and strong."

"And mortal," added the pretty blonde elf dreamily. "I can't wait to see his sweet little ears." She drifted off down the walkway, leaving Amarië and Haldir staring after her, then at each other.

Haldir still held her elbow. "Meleth, you must develop more control. I do not wish to share our joke with all Lothlórien."

"True," she said, glancing up at him from beneath her lashes, "although the number of arrows in your quiver might gain you some respect."

He released her elbow and swatted her backside. "That remark is going to cost you."

"Oh, really?" She tilted her head. "What will it cost me?"

Laughter warmed his eyes. "I have another lesson to teach you, wife."

"And what is that, husband?"

"A lesson in patience," he replied with a laugh.

xxx

By the time they reached the forest floor, they had been stopped and congratulated so many times that the sun was well up in the sky. "I am so late," Haldir remarked, "that I may as well be later still." Taking her by the hand, he led her a short distance to a secluded spot among the trees well beyond the sight of guards or wanderers. "I think we have time for a quick kiss."

She gazed up at him with such warmth and eagerness that he wanted only to take her fully, but instead he caught her wrists and backed her up against a tree. Holding her so that she could not wrap her arms around him, he kissed her very lightly on the lips and gazed down into her blue eyes.

"Haldir," she murmured. "What are you doing?"

"Playing," he whispered seductively. He kissed the base of her throat, then ran his tongue up the side of her neck and blew gently into her ear. He felt her shudder, and smiled. "You will soon discover that I can be very, very playful."

"So I see," she said, moistening her lips in a way that was meant to entice him. He smiled again, and imprisoned both her wrists above her head with one hand; with the other, he brushed his palm over her breasts, watching how she trembled as he proceeded to slide his hand beneath her tunic. He stroked her stomach and kissed her again, still lightly, then dipped his tongue between her sweetly parted lips, sweeping inside her mouth at the same time he slid his fingers between her thighs. The moment she moaned, he withdrew his hand and pressed against her, letting her feel the stirring of his own excitement. Already his heart was pounding, and he knew hers was also.

"This will give us something interesting to think about during the day," he murmured. "Now we will go." He released her and stepped back, watching the way her eyes widened in astonishment.

"You cannot be serious!" she said.

"Indeed I am." He fought back a smile. "I can be patient. Can you?"

"No!" She reached for him, but he stepped away with a laugh.

"Then you are sorely in need of this lesson, Amarië."

For a moment he thought she would smack him, then her eyes filled with that look of demure mischief he so adored. "I can change your mind anytime I wish," she informed him. "Two can play this game."

"Indeed." He cocked an eyebrow. "This should prove a stimulating day. I wonder how this will affect your battle skills."

"I wonder how it will affect yours," she returned, a little tartly.

"Mine will not be affected at all." He grinned as she made a small snort that seemed to indicate skepticism. He had not planned to play this game, but now that he had started it, it promised to be hugely entertaining. After all, was this not the day of their binding celebration? Why not make it as unforgettable as possible?

Filled with delicious anticipation, he took her hand and led her back toward the main path, his steps light and filled with enthusiasm. All too soon they reached the edge of the practice field, where they encountered Ferodir.

"Ah, the happy couple." The dark-haired elf sauntered toward them, his smile wide and wicked. "I thought perhaps you had found something more worthwhile to do than join us here. Your wardens have long been hard at work."

"What could be more worthwhile than training these mortals?" Haldir said dryly.

"What indeed?" Ferodir murmured. "May I kiss the bride?"

Haldir glanced at him. "On the cheek."

"Of course." Ferodir's dark brows lifted haughtily. "What do you take me for?"

Still, if anyone could make a kiss on the cheek seem a bit naughty, it was Ferodir. His lips only grazed her flesh, but Haldir noted it was enough to make Amarië blush. "Congratulations," the dark-haired elf said to her. "You have chosen well and wisely. Of course you will save me a dance this evening?"

"Oh, of course," she agreed, a laugh in her eye.

Ferodir stepped back, eyeing the two of them with a suave smile.

"You need to find a mate of your own," Haldir remarked with slight acerbity.

Ferodir laughed. "That is amusing coming from you. You are more than twice my age, mellon nîn. I am not ready to limit myself to one female."

"That's because you have not yet met the right one," Amarië told him, patting him on the arm. "When you do, you will feel differently."

"And we will be the ones laughing," Haldir added sardonically.

Ferodir watched them walk away, assessing them as they went. He did not need to use his empathic ability to see that they were truly in love. Still, for some reason that was unclear to him, he could not resist reaching out with his mind to see what he could pick up. The jolt he received nearly sizzled his nerve endings. He drew a deep breath and stared at them in amazement. These two had a bond that was almost inconceivable to him, powerful beyond belief. Ferodir had never experienced that kind of connection with anyone, and for a few moments, he knew a pang of acute envy.

xxx

One by one, the elves on the training field came up to offer their congratulations to their Marchwarden and his lady. Amarië was touched by their easy acceptance of her, their formality and obvious devotion to Haldir, and their noticeable sincerity when it came to expressing their good wishes. Despite everything, it appeared that her disgraceful behavior had been forgiven and forgotten. If she had lost the respect of these elves, she had redeemed herself simply by choosing to bind herself to the one they respected most of all. For the first time, she fully appreciated the high regard in which Haldir was held among his people. By becoming his wife, she had been elevated in the eyes of his warriors. Even Rúmil and Orophin treated her differently, calling her sister in loving and friendly tones quite different from their former merely courteous ways.

As for the humans, they only gawked at her and at Haldir, all except for Ennis, who looked a little wistful. It was obvious that he had told the men that she was half elven, and that she had married an elf. By their expressions, it was clear to Amarië that she had crossed a line that now made her completely alien to them. She knew a flicker of sadness, but this she quickly pushed away. Never had she belonged in the world of Men. Now, more clearly than ever before, she understood that she belonged here, in her father's world. The world of Elves. She had chosen it freely, and committed herself to it fully.

Suddenly she noticed that Rúmil and Orophin were gazing at her brother, who stood in the shade of a tree some distance away with several of the other men. She saw Haldir's brothers exchange a glance, and then walk deliberately over to Ennis.

"Come," she heard Rúmil say in the common tongue.

Ennis looked startled. "Where?"

"Come," Rúmil repeated, waving his hand toward Amarië. "Come. Have joy with us."

Orophin nodded, smiled and gestured, politely urging him in the direction of the elves gathered around Haldir and Amarië. Looking uncomfortable, Ennis allowed himself to be guided forward. Several of the elves turned to him and smiled. Despite the language barrier, they made it clear that, as Haldir's brother-in-law, he had gained stature in the group.

Ennis edged closer to Amarië. "Well, Sister, it seems you have made me some new friends. Perhaps your celebration will not be the trial I feared."

"It will not be a trial," she assured him. "In fact, there is a certain pretty she-elf quite anxious to meet you. She even speaks the common tongue."

"Really." He blinked in surprise. "Why does she want to meet me?"

Haldir had been speaking to another elf, but at this he turned around to look at Ennis. "I believe it's something to do with your ears."

"My ears?" Ennis shook his head. "Elves," he muttered beneath his breath.

Still, Amarië detected a faint spark of interest in her brother's eyes at the prospect of meeting a female elf. She smiled to herself. 

xxx

Soon after this the training recommenced. Before venturing over to the archery area, Amarië watched the various men work at their swordplay, and was quite amazed by the progress they had made during her absence. Haldir did not join in, but strolled from group to group, assessing them and injecting a few comments here and there. She saw his eyes rest coldly on Rufus before he turned away, leaving his training to another. Haldir had told her that while all the elves knew about Rufus's attack, he had issued orders that Ennis was not to be told. She had been relieved, for not only did she not want her brother to challenge Rufus to a fight, she very much wished to put the entire matter behind her. Still, it was difficult to see Rufus and not remember. With a shiver, she too turned away, putting as much distance between herself and the red-haired man as possible. Instead, she focused on Haldir, admiring his fluid grace and economy of movement as he moved among the elves and mortals.

Once Haldir had finished making his rounds, he returned to her side, and with him, he carried a Galadhric bow. "Rúmil is lending you his bow to try," he said. "It is perhaps a bit too large for you, but it is slightly smaller than mine. You may use my arrows for now."

She accepted it, noting its excellent quality, which was far superior to her own. She was suddenly reminded of the moment when her stepfather had handed her that first bow, and the memory stirred up complex emotions that nearly brought her to tears. She touched the wood with her fingers, feeling its smoothness and durability and strength.

"Thank you," she said, glancing up at him with a wobbly smile.

Haldir watched her with a smile of his own. "If you like it, I will see that one is made for you. Rúmil says you may keep it all day if you like. You have found great favor with him due to your willingness to listen to his poetry."

She laughed, feeling a glow of happiness as they walked together toward the archery range. The fact that the eyes of many grinning elves followed them barely dented her consciousness. Since they had left the wood, she had been able to push her awareness of Haldir to the background of her thoughts with some effort, but now his nearness brought it back, rather like a low, throbbing hum that sang a continuous song through her veins. When he unbuckled his quiver from his own back and placed in on hers, his warm hand slid down her arm, increasing her awareness of him—as was doubtless his intent.

"Try any target you wish, meleth. Just get the feel of the bow."

She straightened her shoulders and nocked an arrow, pulling back on the bowstring. She could feel the power of the weapon, the pliability of the wood. Sindarin writing was carved into the far ends of the bow. "What does it say?" she asked.

"Listen to my laughter as I slay you. Death to the foes of the elves."

"Not very cheerful," she said wryly.

"No," he said. "Battle is not cheerful. And Rúmil is a great warrior. Do not be fooled by his merry ways."

"I never doubted it," she said soberly.

She raised the bow, aimed at a target some distance away, and let fly the arrow. It landed squarely in the center.

"Very good," Haldir remarked. "Was that the one you were aiming for?"

She glanced at him. "You are quite the jokester today. It seems our binding has agreed with you."

"It seems so," he agreed, his voice cheerful. "Try another."

Again, she nocked an arrow, aiming at a target farther away. An instant before she loosed the arrow, his hand suddenly cupped her buttock and gave it a little squeeze, causing her to jump and miss her target completely. She squeaked and spun around. "Just what do you think you're doing?"

"Refreshing my memory," he said amiably. "Do not allow me to distract you."

"I would not have thought your memory needed to be refreshed!"

His lips quirked. "As a rule, it does not. But I find myself in need of constant reminders where you are concerned."

"I should do the same to you," she said, smiling sweetly, "in front of all your elves."

He laughed. "I would not miss my target, though I welcome your attempts to distract me."

"You are quite conceited. I can see I shall have to prove you wrong."

He reached out and caught her chin in his hand. "Go right ahead." He bent and brushed his lips against hers, then drew back, his eyes warm. "Tempt me all you like. But let's keep it discreet." He stepped back. "Now show me what you can do with that bow."

She gave him a suspicious glance, but he appeared to be quite serious, and so she lifted the bow again and sent another arrow soaring. To her satisfaction, it landed exactly where she intended. For the next two hours, she shot arrows into the various targets, following Haldir's instructions as he challenged her speed and accuracy. Unlike before, she did not once miss her target, despite the fact that she was using an unfamiliar bow. This was so unusual that she commented on it to Haldir.

"There are two possibilities," he said thoughtfully, as they strolled together across the grass to retrieve the arrows, "it is either the bow or it is you."

She considered this. "It must be the bow. I have not changed."

"Oh, have you not?" His gray eyes glinted with humor. "You have bound yourself to me. I think that is a very important change."

"But why would that improve my archery skill?"

"I can think of several reasons. Perhaps it is the knowledge that at any moment I may drag you under the bushes and have my way with you."

"Haldir!"

"Which would give me a chance to brush up on my own archery skills."

She glared at him, trying to ignore the wild flutters in her stomach. "I am quite sure that has nothing to do with it."

"How can you be sure?" With twinkling eyes, he pried an arrow out of one of the soft wooden targets and returned it to the quiver. "Perhaps it is the knowledge that you have only a few hours to wait until my hands are on your naked flesh—"

"Stop," she moaned.

"—and my lips are exploring all those sweet places you keep hidden from others—"

"Please, stop . . ."

"You won't be saying that later, meleth, when I am—" he bent close to her ear and whispered words so sensual they sent a wave of raw desire coursing through her body and turned her face bright red. Even worse, a few of the elves were now strolling into the target area and were looking their way. She could see both Rúmil and Orophin staring at her, their elven eyesight no doubt taking in the sight of her blushing cheeks even from this distance.

"I will get even with you," she said through clenched teeth. "Just you wait."

"I am hoping you will," Haldir murmured. He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, his thumb gliding lightly down the side of her neck as he did so.

They walked back to where the group of elves were standing, including Ferodir, who blew her a kiss and grinned. It was the midpoint in the day when the men normally took a break and ate their lunch, thus leaving the elves some free time to lounge and chat. Haldir went over to speak to Orophin, while Rúmil came over to Amarië, the corners of his blue eyes still crinkling with amusement at what he had witnessed. However, he was kind enough not to say anything to embarrass her.

"Do you like my bow, little sister?" he inquired. "It is very fine, yes?"

"Oh, yes, Rúmil! Thank you so much for lending it to me. It is very good of you."

Rúmil beamed with pleasure.

Amarië watched Ferodir walk over and sit down on a wooden bench, and a sudden idea came to her. Excusing herself from Rúmil's side, she went over to the dark-haired elf. "Ferodir, would you do me a favor?"

He lifted a brow. "Anything for you, my princess. You know that. What has the Marchwarden done to turn your cheeks so pink? Shall I challenge him to a duel?"

She smiled. "Actually, yes. An archery contest."

"Ah." He grinned. "You are up to something naughty. A lass after my own heart."

"Do you read minds?" she joked.

"Actually, I do. I am an empath. Did Haldir not tell you?"

"No!" Aghast, her hand flew to her mouth.

"I am not reading your mind right now," he reassured her with gentle amusement. "Only your face. I do try not to pry. Most of the time. In any case, if I made a habit of misusing my ability, the Valar would surely take it away."

She shook her head, as bemused by him as always. She had heard of empaths, but had never quite believed that such creatures existed. The very idea made her uncomfortable. "Will you promise not to read my mind, or Haldir's mind, for the next little while?"

Ferodir placed his hand over his heart. "I so pledge, my fair one. Whatever mischief you have planned is none of my affair. I am your servant and will simply do your bidding."

Amarië could not help but laugh. "Nay, I have no mischief planned. I only wish to observe a demonstration of my husband's skill."

Looking skeptical, Ferodir rose to his feet. "I rather doubt that is your only wish, my lady, but mine is not to question why. I live only to serve."

Amarië watched as he strode over to Haldir and issued the challenge. She saw Haldir glance over at her, and knew from his expression that he realized she was up to something. Quickly, she schooled her face into a nonchalant expression. His eyes narrowed, and she fought back a desire to laugh. She did not know if her plan would work, but if it did, her revenge would be sweet indeed.

His gaze searched hers as he came over to reclaim his quiver. "What have you in mind, meleth? Whatever you are planning, you will not forget to be discreet."

She smiled sweetly. "You are very dictatorial today."

"You may find me so at times." He set his hand on her shoulder, and whispered softly, "But this game can only go so far until we are alone. Remember that."

"You misunderstand. I am planning nothing. My only wish is to see a demonstration of your ability."

"Ha! A likely tale." His lips quirked. "But doubtless I will soon learn what sweet torment you have planned for me."

He turned and strolled back to Ferodir as the other elves gathered round, eager to watch the contest. Amarië elected to sit on a bench slightly to the side where she could see clearly, yet not be watched. Several minutes passed while the terms of the competition were established and agreed upon. Clearly Haldir and Ferodir were respected as two of the best archers amongst them, for there was much excitement and many grins among the elves.

Amarië closed her eyes for a moment, searching for the connection she had felt between them when they were in the pool. Within seconds she felt it, a pulsing, living force that was a part of each of them. In her mind, she could almost see it, this golden cord of pure light and energy along which thought and sensation could flow as easily as wind sifted through the trees.

She reopened her eyes, watching as the first few arrows were fired off. The target was so distant she could scarcely see it, but according to the reaction of those with elven eyesight, neither Haldir nor Ferodir had missed by so much as a hairsbreadth.

She smiled to herself as she reached out to him with mental hands. At least he could not accuse her of being unsubtle or indiscreet. As long as Ferodir kept his word, no one would ever know what she was doing to him. She watched him as he nocked an arrow and pulled back on the string, his concentration gathered. And then she touched him, brushing him with mental fingers . . .

At first he did not notice anything unusual. A lock of his hair shifted, but it was only the breeze. Then it felt as though a mellyrn leaf skittered across his back beneath his tunic, light as a feather. Most odd. But when the tickle on the tip of his ear began, he frowned.

This was not natural.

He glanced suspiciously at Amarië, but she was not even looking at him at the moment. Perhaps he had imagined it. No, he had not! Now his chest tingled as though she dragged her fingers across it, grazing his nipples, his stomach, moving downward . . .

To the most vulnerable part of his anatomy.

Haldir froze, unable to believe this was happening. It was as though she were right there in front of him, stroking him, pressing her mouth to him in a manner that under any other circumstance he would have adored. As sensation washed over him, the erotic hum he had been enjoying for the past few hours blossomed into a full scale jangle at the back of his brain. His teeth ground together as silent laughter and frustration rocked through him. The little vixen! Never would he have expected this!

Drawing a deep breath, he focused once more upon the tiny point in the distance, ignoring with monumental effort his wife's attempts to distract him. He released the arrow, watching with dismay as it landed slightly off-center. A low murmur rose among the elves.

His heart hammering, he turned and looked at Amarië. Her face was set with perfect innocence, but her eyes gave her away. Oh, yes, she knew exactly what she was doing to him and what he was feeling.

Meanwhile, Ferodir's arrow landed perfectly, as usual.

Haldir turned back to take his turn. His leggings had felt too snug all morning, but this was now beyond discomfort. He closed his eyes for a moment, silently begging her to stop, but if she heard him, she paid him no heed. All his wardens were looking at him, waiting expectantly for him to continue.

"Brother?" Orophin asked. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Haldir managed to get out. "Nothing is wrong."

"You look odd," Rúmil said.

"You always think I look odd," Haldir shot back irritably.

Trying to control his erratic breathing, he raised his bow again. She was still teasing him, caressing him in such a way that his arousal tightened, swelling to nearly unbearable proportions. To stand here and pretend it was not happening was excruciating. A shudder ran through his body. His loins ached almost unendurably.

He lowered his bow. He could not do this. He wanted her so badly he was almost shaking.

"You are sweating," Orophin observed. "Something is wrong."

"Are you in pain?" Rúmil inquired with concern.

"I am not in pain!" Haldir snapped.

"Well, you look like you're in pain!"

Haldir glanced at Ferodir, wondering if he discerned what was happening, but the dark-haired elf only grinned and shrugged. "Your brothers are right. You don't look well. Apparently you fear my skill."

"You must be joking. I have yet to observe any skill of yours that I should fear."

Ferodir smiled. "You amuse me, Marchwarden."

The next few minutes were some of the most challenging of Haldir's life. He managed to land each of his arrows dead center, but only through the most monumental effort and the fact that Amarië seemed to be giving him a respite. Then he felt the touch of her lips again, so light and soft, and knew he was in deep trouble.

"Excuse me for a moment," he said to the elves. He strode over to his wife and bent low, putting his mouth near her ear. "I think you have made your point, Amarië. I yield to you. I am no longer patient. And if you embarrass me in front of my wardens, it will be at least an age before I hear the end of their laughter."

She looked up at him, her lovely blue eyes alight with humor and apology. "I am sorry, meleth. I thought it was your wish that I pursue this game discreetly."

"You are pushing me beyond the limits of discretion. And let it be noted that the connection works both ways. What you can do, I can do also."

With satisfaction, he saw that his meaning had struck home. Then, suddenly, her gaze shifted. "Haldir."

He glanced around, and saw that the Lord and Lady were approaching. He turned back quickly. "No more games," he warned. "Promise me."

"I promise," she whispered, "if you promise to give me a little of your time alone."

He gazed at her hungrily. "That you will have, I assure you. As soon as it is possible."

"You do not wish to wait?"

"I would take you this instant if I could. And more than once."

Her eyes widened in a way that pleased him very much.

"I ache for you," she whispered.

"And I for you," he whispered back. "I love you so much. You are my life."

"And you are mine," she said.

tbc

Elvish Phrases:  
Le melin Thee I love  
meleth, meleth nín: love, my love  
Gerich veleth nín You have my love


	14. Celebration

**Part 13 – Celebration**

Haldir returned to his position beside Ferodir just as Galadriel and Celeborn arrived. Their eyes were focused directly on him and he bowed his head and touched his heart in greeting as they reached his side.

"I thought I should come and congratulate you personally," Celeborn stated, a faint smile curling his lips, "since it is my granddaughter to whom you have bound yourself." He gazed deeply into Haldir's eyes as if to confirm that the binding had indeed taken place.

"Thank you, my lord," Haldir responded just as Amarië came up beside him.

Celeborn's gaze shifted to her face. "You have made a wise decision, child. I wish you both great joy."

"We look forward to your celebration this evening," Galadriel added, her kind blue eyes settling on Haldir. "It will be a time of much needed festivity for all."

Celeborn eyed the assemblage of elves with interest. "You are having a competition?"

"Er, yes. Ferodir challenged me." Haldir was still feeling extremely uncomfortable and would have preferred to call an immediate halt to the whole event.

"At your wife's request," Galadriel added with a glimmer of a smile. "Pray do not let us keep you from completing your contest. We will observe."

Wondering just how much the Lady discerned, Haldir had no choice but to acquiesce. He resumed his place and took his next shot, planting the arrow exactly where he wished it with no difficulty now that Amarië no longer toyed with him.

Ferodir stepped up. Nocking his arrow, he pulled back the bowstring, his blue eyes narrowed in concentration. He let fly the arrow and a surprised murmur rose from the surrounding crowd. Ferodir had missed his target by precisely the same distance that Haldir had missed his only a short while before. Haldir turned and looked at the other elf, but Ferodir only shrugged and grinned.

Neither of them missed any more shots for the remainder of the competition, and the outcome was a draw. Haldir was greatly relieved that it was over, but before he could politely disentangle himself and Amarië from the proceedings, he found himself strolling with Galadriel while Ferodir claimed Amarië and took her off to retrieve the arrows. The rest of the elves quickly departed to resume the training sessions with the humans.

"As always, Haldir, your devotion to duty is commendable," the Lady remarked in her serene way, "but I see no need for you to spend these hours with the mortals. You deserve some time with your bride."

Haldir cleared his throat. "We will have time later, my lady."

"Indeed," she replied, glancing at him with an odd look. "Yet I suggest you take her away from here and enjoy this day as it should be enjoyed."

He was silent, and very tempted by her suggestion. He was simply unused to putting his personal preferences before his duty. It had not occurred to him that it would be acceptable to do what he wished with this day. It was also his desire to complete this distasteful duty to the humans and have them out of Lothlórien as soon as possible.

"I know you would speak with me regarding other matters of concern," she went on. "Soon we will talk, but now is not the time. This is a day of great joy for you and Amarië. You must allow nothing to interfere with that."

"I thank you, my lady," was all he could think of to say.

"And you might thank Ferodir," she added with a mischievous smile. "A truer friend you will not find."

With those words, she left his side and glided over to the Lord Celeborn, who had seated himself upon a bench while he patiently awaited the return of his lady.

Unsure of her meaning, Haldir strode across the grass toward Ferodir and Amarië. She was laughing at whatever the dark-haired elf had said, and Haldir found himself wondering exactly what it was about Ferodir that appealed so greatly to every female he came across. Usually Haldir found it amusing, but he was not amused at the moment.

Ferodir had retrieved all his own arrows, while Amarië had collected Haldir's. She stuffed them into his quiver, then turned to walk alongside him.

Haldir fixed his hard gaze upon Ferodir. "Did you miss the target on purpose?"

"Why would I do that?"

"I know not. It just seemed very odd to me."

"Odd things do happen," Ferodir said imperturbably.

"Not that odd. The likelihood of us each missing by the same distance is too small to be believed."

Ferodir sighed, and switched abruptly to the Sylvan dialect. "It was my choice not to take advantage of you, Marchwarden. When I best you in a competition, it will be under fair and equal conditions."

"What makes you think the conditions were not fair and equal?" Haldir answered in the same tongue, his voice at its most arrogant.

"You know exactly what I mean. A victory under those circumstances would mean nothing to me. It was quite plain you had a large disadvantage. No pun intended."

Haldir could feel a flush creeping up his neck. "Was it that obvious? Or were you reading my mind?"

"I did not read your mind." Ferodir chuckled. "Nor was it obvious to others what was happening. You must realize that as an empath, I am aware of the unusual connection you share with your wife. I have felt her sense of mischief. It did not take much for me to ascertain your, shall we say, predicament."

Haldir said nothing.

"I must say I envy you," Ferodir went on. "I might almost be tempted to bind myself to one female if I could find one so gifted. And so lovely, of course."

"What are you two saying?" Amarië demanded, sounding a little cross.

"One moment, meleth." Haldir gripped her wrist and addressed himself to Ferodir. "You will keep this to yourself," he said with a hint of steel.

"I would not dream of telling anyone. However, I daresay there will come a time when you can repay me for the favor."

"I am sure of that," Haldir said with a slight twist of his mouth.

"Would you like me to go away?" Amarië inquired, very sweetly.

Ferodir flashed her a smile, and returned to speaking Sindarin. "Not at all, princess. My apologies. I'm sure your good husband will be happy to explain."

Haldir slipped his arm around Amarië's waist. "It is Ferodir who is going away. You and I have other business to attend to."

Ferodir smirked. "Business of enormous urgency," he murmured in Sylvan.

Haldir heaved a long-suffering sigh.

xxx

Amarië skipped along beside Haldir, trying to keep up with him as he moved swiftly over the grass. "Are you going to tell me what that was all about?"

"No," he said calmly. "I am not."

"What language were you speaking?"

"Sylvan. The tongue your father taught you is Sindarin."

"Yes, I know. Where are we going?"

He glanced at her, his smile so intimate that her heart did a silly little dance. "You are full of questions today."

Clearly he was keeping his word to her that they would spend some time alone. Elated, she teased, "What about the training? I thought that was what you wanted to do."

"It was never what I wanted to do. It was my duty. But Galadriel has released me from my duty for today."

"I see." She glanced up at him, a twinkle in her eyes. "So where are we going? Dare I hope that you are mine for awhile?"

"I am always yours, even when we are apart." He reached out and caught her around the waist, dragging her against him so he could kiss her cheek. "As you requested, milady, we are going somewhere we can be alone. Somewhere close. I do not feel like climbing all those stairs."

She slid her arm around him, her hand on the side of his hip. "Nor do I."

He led her in a new direction, along a forest path she had not seen before. Within minutes they came to a secluded place beside a small, trickling stream. Fragrant flowers bloomed along the bank, and dry leaves lined the ground where he paused and hauled her into his arms.

He crushed his mouth to hers, his kiss scorching, his eager tongue thrusting deep as his hands gripped her bottom, forcing her hard against him so that she could feel how badly he wanted her. With a whimper, she twined one arm around his neck, the other boldly sliding down his muscular back as far as she could reach.

He tore his mouth away and whispered her name, his arm about her waist as he exerted enough force to push her toward the ground. His strength supporting her, he lowered her easily to the soft leaves and knelt between her knees.

She gazed up at him, the memory of her recent teasing replaying in her mind. "So how do you feel?" she asked playfully.

"How do I feel?" He seemed to consider this as he leaned over her, his hands resting on the ground beside her shoulders, his long hair forming a pale curtain around their faces. "There is an Elvish word that perfectly describes my current state. But I will not tell you what it is."

"Why not?"

"Because, it is rather coarse. But also accurate."

"Perhaps I already know it," she murmured, her smile saucy.

"I feel certain this is not a word your father would have taught you." He sat back on his heels and shoved up her tunic, jerking impatiently at the ties to her leggings. "This was a bad idea. I should have had you wear the sheet."

She giggled as he drew the garment rapidly down her legs and tossed it aside. "You seem to be in quite a hurry."

He lifted an eyebrow. "So now you are complaining? Only a short while ago you claimed to want a demonstration of my ability."

"Oh, I did." She pulled down her tunic to cover herself, glancing up at the surrounding trees. "Are you certain we are alone?"

"Quite certain. Why? Would you prefer an audience?" He paused long enough to reach down and shove her tunic back up again. "Leave it. I want to see you."

Her heart thudding with anticipation, she hid a smile as she watched him jerk at the ties of his own leggings. In his urgency he had somehow succeeded in creating a knot.

The frustrated expression on his face as he struggled made her laugh. "I'm surprised you haven't burst the string by now. You must be most uncomfortable."

He sent her glowering look, and continued to work at the knot. "Whose fault is that?"

"It must be a very strong string," she remarked.

He made a face.

Watching him, she said suddenly, "You were not angry with me, were you?"

With a triumphant sound, he yanked the knot loose and successfully freed himself from the confines of his leggings. His eyes moved over her possessively, a slight smile curving one side of his mouth. "No, I was not angry, though it's a wonder I didn't explode right there in front of everyone." With one fluid movement, he lowered his body to hers, and poised his arousal at her entrance. "And if that had happened, meleth, I would have had to punish you most severely."

Sighing blissfully, she wrapped her arms around him, hugging the sides of his hips with her thighs. "Really? What would you have done?"

"I know not, but I would have thought of something fitting." He pushed into her only a small distance, and then withdrew. "I want your promise that you will not play such games with me again when others are around."

"I promise," she whispered.

"I will hold you to that." Still he made no move to seek the completion they both desired, but only nudged against her in a tantalizingly brief encounter.

"Please . . ." She moaned and closed her eyes, arching her back and rocking her hips in an effort to get closer to him, but with a soft laugh, he denied her that contact. 

"Please what?" His voice was husky, full of sensual demand.

"I am as ready as you are. Do not tease me."

"Do not tease you? After what you did to me earlier, you dare ask this?" 

"How can I make it up to you?" she almost whimpered. 

"Ah, now you are asking the right questions."

He pushed into her again, but only slightly, then withdrew once more, chuckling low in his throat at her trembling endeavors to keep him near.

"You . . . have something in mind?" she gasped. Desperate desire swirled in the pit of her stomach, desire that had been smoldering for hours and was now a rampaging burn.

"My clever little wife," he murmured lovingly. "Clever and so talented."

"Why do you not just tell me . . .?"

His lips whispered along the line of her jaw, his teeth nipping her lightly until he reached her ear. "Oh, I thought you might be able to guess."

"My mind . . . is not working too well at the moment."

"Excuses." He kissed her lips and the tip of her nose. "I am thinking of a very recent demonstration of your talents. It shouldn't be too hard for you to recall."

Their connection told her that he hovered at the very threshold of his control, yet he exerted an iron command over himself while he waited for her to reply.

"Something recent? What are you . . . oh." She gave him a slow, feminine smile as she recalled exactly what she had done to him on the archery field. "So you liked that, did you?"

"You might say that. I nearly passed out."

"Would you like me to do that now?"

"No, not now." With no more hesitation, he drove himself deeply into her, his gray eyes blazing with hunger. "But I'd like you to keep it in mind for next time."

xxx

An hour later, Haldir cradled Amarië against him as she ran her fingers through his silken hair, admiring its beauty and texture and the pale, distinctive color so very like her father's hair. Her head lay on his chest so that she could feel the rise and fall of his breathing, hear the slow, steady beat of his heart. Recalling his unrestrained moans of ecstasy only a short time before, she was filled with intense satisfaction that she had been able to please him in the way that he wished. He had pleased her too. She felt sated and full of a joy she had never known prior to meeting him. She knew also that he felt the same joy and contentment. She could feel it, and the knowledge that it was due to her presence in his life elevated her own happiness to a new level.

She traced her fingers over the taut, hard muscles of his stomach. She loved to make him smile, loved his laugh, loved to tease him. "Do you realize you never even bothered to take off your boots?" she inquired.

"I beg your pardon. Did you want to see my nice feet again?"

She laughed. "And by the way, this morning I counted twenty-four arrows in your quiver. I trust there is no hidden meaning to that."

Beneath her cheek, his chest shook with amusement. "Ha. You flatter me."

When she laughed again, he rubbed his face against her hair, his hand cupping the swell of her breast. "You are the first person in a very long time to laugh at my jokes."

"I think you're very funny," she said loyally. "Besides, you laugh at mine. Ennis almost never does."

"Most people do not even think I have a sense of humor."

"Ferodir does. And he thinks very highly of you also."

"You think so?" Idly, his finger traced the circle of her nipple.

"Definitely."

"Perhaps. He enjoys getting under my skin. So do my brothers," he grumbled. 

Gently, she said, "I think they try to cheer you up because they care about you. Those who love you like to see you happy. Do you know that when you smile, your whole face lights up?"

He did not answer at once, but seemed to reflect upon this for awhile. At last he said, "I wish I had met you two thousand years ago. I wonder why the Valar allowed us this connection, then kept us apart for so long."

She sighed. "I know. It seems unfair. But there must have been a reason." Her arms tightened around him. "I am frightened for you, Haldir."

"Why?"

"Because of my dreams."

"You do not remember them, you said."

"But when I first wake, I remember terror. Something is going to happen."

"Nothing is going to happen. I am immortal, and soon you will be too."

She was silent.

"Do not think of such things now. This should be a day of joy for us."

"I know. Tell me of this celebration. Is there anything I should know?"

"Hmmm. Well, Rúmil's poetry is terrible. Orophin is a better dancer than I am. Rúmil will get drunk and do something foolish. Ferodir will flirt with you."

She chuckled. "Are you jealous of Ferodir?"

"Jealousy is not an emotion that elves indulge in," he informed her firmly. "At least rarely. I grow weary of his flirting, but I do not feel jealousy."

"Because you know I love you?" she asked, smoothing a lock of his hair.

"Because I know you love me," he agreed. He gave a sigh, but it sounded like one of contentment. "I have to go back. There is something I must do before it gets much later."

"What do you have to do?"

"I cannot tell you because it is to be surprise. I will take you back to our room so you can rest."

She hesitated, unsure that she wanted to rest, but then discovered that she did. She was tired, and he somehow knew it. "You do not have to take me, Haldir. I am not a fragile flower who cannot climb stairs on her own."

"Perhaps you are not fragile, but you are a flower, nonetheless. And I will go with you." He rose to his feet and began to relace his leggings while she dressed.

When they reached his rooms, he kissed her once more, his hands sliding around her waist. "It is so difficult to leave you," he murmured, "but I won't be long. And you must rest. In a few hours we will have our celebration with all Lothlórien, and after that . . ."

"After that?" she prodded, tilting her head to gaze up at him.

"After that we can celebrate again, in our own way."

"Perhaps you will be too tired," she suggested with a twinkle.

A gleam of humor warmed his eyes. "I cannot think of anything more unlikely, meleth."

xxx

When his brothers had first mentioned their intention of arranging a celebration, Haldir had been unenthusiastic; he had been to binding celebrations before and they had always depressed him. His introspective nature made him ill-suited for social occasions devoted to revelry, and although females often flocked to his side, he did not especially like to dance. Nevertheless, the moment he had realized that Amarië liked the idea of a celebration, he had buried his objections. He would do anything to make her happy, hence he'd resigned himself to the event, even if it meant being the focus of attention and the butt of more sly jokes and teasing from his brothers.

Oddly, however, he now found that he was starting to get excited. As he walked through Caras Galadhon, smiling faces greeted him everywhere, and he found that his steps grew lighter than they had been in a long time. And when he returned to his rooms, he found his bride waiting, garbed once more in the magnificent white gown she had worn the evening before. Lornarië must have done her hair, for she now wore elven braids on either side of her head, pulled back behind her head and held in place by a silver circlet of Lórien leaves.

He stopped and stared at her, drinking her in with bemusement. "You look like a gift straight from the arms of Elbereth," he told her quietly.

She blushed a little, and indicated a set of apparel on the bed. "Galadriel sent these for you to wear. I think you will look like a gift from Manwë in them."

Smiling, he took the time to wash, then donned the silvery gray leggings and undertunic, followed by the white overtunic richly embroidered with silver threads. Then he sat while Amarië tended to his braids, reweaving them with dexterity and precision while she occasionally brushed his face with kisses and whispered endearments such as he had never heard. It seemed to him the most perfect moment in his life thus far.

"Lornarië told me that Ennis has been given my former room," she informed him at one point. "He is also being provided with a bath and fresh clothing. I only hope he is able to enjoy himself this evening."

"If Lornarië has decided to care for him, he will be well-tended," Haldir told her. "Worry not, Amarië. This evening will be a time of pleasure for him and for us."

Lórien wine was already flowing freely by the time they arrived, although clear, cold spring water, mead and ale were also available. Rúmil came up to them at once carrying two silver goblets, which he placed in their hands with a grin.

"You took long enough," he said. "The party has already started."

Haldir lifted a brow. "You certainly appear to have started. Are you going to be brave and ask Brianna to dance?"

Rúmil's grin widened. "I know not. Perhaps if I get drunk enough, I will have the courage to look at her when I read my love poems."

"I thought the love poetry was for us," Amarië teased.

"Oh, it is, little sister," Rúmil affirmed, still smiling as he left them.

The celebration took place on the forest floor at the foot of the greatest of all mellyrn trees, that which bore the Lord and Lady's talan. Haldir noted how much effort had been put into the arrangements, and was conscious of a sense of gratitude for his brothers and friends. Long wooden tables and chairs has been set up, along with festoons of gauzy, multi-colored banners and multitudes of twinkling lights. Upon a dais sat the high table where the Lord and Lady would dine, along with Haldir and Amarië, Rúmil and Orophin, and Ennis and Lornarië. The Lord and Lady were last to arrive, descending from the heights of their talan with majestic grace and warm smiles. Galadriel had decreed that Lornarië was to be Ennis's official escort for the evening, a fact that seemed to please the pretty elf as much as it seemed to disconcert Amarië's brother, Haldir noted with amusement. They stood together some distance away, and Haldir thought that Ennis appeared both mystified and charmed by Lornarië, who seemed to be regaling him with tales and information.

Haldir slipped his arm around Amarië's waist and drew her close as they sipped their wine. Always before he had been reserved in public, and would never have dreamed of exhibiting a public display of affection with a female. However, much had changed in the past few days. Between the joy of finding his life-mate, and his time in the Pool of Renewal, he found he had lost much of his former self-consciousness and reticence. This was his wife, he was proud of her, he was happy, and he was in love.

And so when it came time to dance, when the harps and lyres and flutes began, and everyone's eyes were upon them, Haldir led Amarië out and put his arms around her with none of his former reserve. Despite the grins of his brothers and so many others who had never witnessed the Marchwarden exhibiting such behavior (or wearing such a besotted expression), Haldir smiled blissfully and gazed into his wife's eyes as he led her into the first dance, a slow, close dance. Soon other couples joined in the dancing, including Galadriel and Celeborn, which shifted some of the attention away from the newly bound couple. Once others swayed with the music, Haldir reached into a fold in his tunic and withdrew a tiny parcel.

"This is my surprise," he said, his voice low and intimate.

They paused in their dancing as she took it from him and opened it, and found the two intricately formed silver rings he had had the elven silversmith make while she rested. "Oh, Haldir," she breathed, in such a way that his pleasure sharply magnified.

"These binding rings symbolize our eternal union," he told her tenderly. "I will love you forever, Amarië."

He took the smaller of the two and slipped it onto her middle finger. It fit perfectly because he had measured her finger during the night while she slept. He then handed her the other ring so she could put it on his hand.

She slipped it onto his finger, then leaned up to kiss him directly on the mouth. "Thank you," she whispered, her eyes shining with emotion. "I will love you forever also, Haldir of Lórien."

Several nearby elves grinned at them, and Haldir smiled proudly, hoping she'd kiss him again. She was so beautiful and wonderful, he was sure they all must envy him, which was a very nice feeling. Always before, he had felt that others secretly pitied him, but things were different now. He had a life-mate of his own! Impulsively, he bent his head and kissed her again despite a few nearby chuckles.

She slipped her arms around his neck and pressed against him as they resumed their dance, her fingers burrowing into his hair on either side of his head.

"Not the ears," he whispered, and grinned as he felt her giggle.

"Don't worry," she whispered back. "I will save such things for later."

But to his very great delight, she did kiss him again.

xxx

Some distance away, Ennis watched his sister dance with her elf-husband, struck with an odd feeling of melancholy. Soon he would leave Lothlórien, likely never to return. What awaited him, he knew not, but he did know that already he was more prepared for whatever lay ahead than he had ever been before. So much had he learned from the elves in such a short time, especially from the Marchwarden. His views regarding elves had changed; he had a new respect for them, but wished he understood them better. This fascinating she-elf hanging onto his arm bewildered him most of all.

"Why do you look so sad?" Lornarië asked. "This is a time of celebration."

He looked down at her. "I am not sad," he lied. "I only ponder the future."

"Do not think of that now," she chided. "Come, dance with me."

She took his hand and led him out among the other dancers, then put her arms around his neck. He studied her, noting the beauty of her face, the sparkle in her blue eyes, the delicate pink of her lovely lips, the dainty pointed ears. He smiled slightly.

"Do you find me attractive?" she inquired. "What do you think of my ears?"

"I find you very attractive. And I find your ears . . . different."

"Yes." She seemed satisfied with his answer. "I like yours too."

When she pressed her exquisite body closer, Ennis abruptly decided to forget his worries. "You are the most beautiful female I have ever met," he said quietly.

"Truly?" She smiled at him. "You are the first mortal male I have met, but if they are all as handsome and gallant as you, I shall be sad when it comes time for me to leave this land for Valinor."

"When will you leave?" he asked curiously.

"I know not. Someday. Our time is different from yours, you know."

He sighed. "Yes, I know."

"But tonight you and I—elf and mortal—can measure time together," she told him softly. "Our hearts can beat as one if we so choose."

Ennis knew her meaning, and thought at once upon his mother and her elven lover. Should he beware? "'Tis a tempting offer you make, fair Lornarië. Are all elf maidens so generous?"

"As to that, I cannot say. I only know I find you most alluring. So do many of my sister elves, if you would care to dance with them."

He glanced in the direction she indicated, and saw at least six other ladies sending him smiles. "I think I prefer you," he replied, "unless that does not suit you."

"It suits me well," she whispered, her hand in his hair. "My handsome Ennis."

xxx

After a little while, it was time to pause and dine. Everyone took their seats, then Lord Celeborn rose to make a formal announcement of Amarië's blood connection to himself as well as to state his joy that his granddaughter had chosen such a fine elf as their Marchwarden for her husband. Next, as the elder of Haldir's brothers, Orophin stood and made an engaging speech in which he praised his brother's devotion to duty, his lengthy and steadfast service to their people, and his good fortune in finding Amarië. He also spoke highly of his new sister, whom he called beautiful, courageous, and wise in her choice of a mate.

Then it was Rúmil's turn. He rose unsteadily to his feet, having imbibed enough Lórien wine for two elves. He cleared his throat. "Dear friends," he began with dignity, "as many of you know, I do not spend all my time with a bow or sword in my hand. I am also a poet of significant talent." Light laughter rippled through the crowd. "Tonight, in honor of my brother and his bride, I will share with you a selection of my poetry." He sent Haldir a grin, and began to recite.

_I dream of love, I dream of peace  
Your lips unlock the key to these.  
What have I done to deserve you?  
No answer comes, but I love you.  
My love, my love, this is so true.  
Please do not leave, what would I do?  
_  
While Rúmil continued, Ferodir lounged in the shadows, feeling oddly restless. He had been sitting beside two of his current flirts, but had excused himself on the pretext that he needed to stretch his long legs. Unfortunately, he could still hear Rúmil's poetry all too clearly.

_But still I search inside your eyes  
Where I can see and realize  
That I was born to still your cries  
To kiss your cheeks, your mouth, your eyes  
To help your heart to beat with mine  
I will love you for all of time.  
_  
Ferodir pressed his lips together to keep from snickering. Such bad poetry and such maudlin sentiments! A love for all time? He did not know if he would ever find what the Marchwarden had apparently found, but he thought it highly unlikely. In any case, why would he wish to bind himself forever to one, when there were so many to choose from? It would be like eating nothing but lembas for all of eternity.

Annoyed by the thought, he stalked further into the shadows, further from the sound of Rúmil's voice as he began another poem. Shoving this love business aside, he tried to focus on what was really troubling him. It was Galadriel, he decided. When she and Celeborn had first come down the stairs, Ferodir had sensed that something was amiss. Very rarely was he able to pick up anything from the Lady since her inner shields were so finely wrought. But something was wrong. Very wrong.

He had a queer sense of foreboding that disturbed him deeply.

xxx

Much later, after everyone had dined and several ballads had been sung, Amarië found herself dancing with Ferodir. Garbed in deep crimson decorated with silver threads, he provided a rich complement to Orophin and Rúmil in dark green, and Ennis in his borrowed blue tunic. She had danced with Lord Celeborn and Ennis, as well as Orophin and Rúmil, who had each taken pains to teach her some steps to a lively dance she had never seen before.

Ferodir had managed to get to her for the next slow dance, cutting out Haldir, who had been heading her way. Haldir had rolled his eyes, but then he had given her a wink and sent something sizzling along the connection between them that told her he did not object. He knew she was immune to Ferodir's charms.

"You are so full of joy," Ferodir murmured as he gathered her close, "that you glow nearly as much as Galadriel."

Amarië smiled. "Someday you will find a lady who glows for you."

"You think so?" His dark head tilted, one eyebrow raised with disbelief. "I have met many ladies, my dear. Many of them have glowed for me, but not in the way you glow for our Marchwarden." He spun her once around, adding, "Your husband watches us closely."

"He loves me," she said simply. "As you know. What is it like to read minds?"

"It is unsettling," he answered frankly. "I cannot recommend it. It places a burden of responsibility upon my shoulders that will follow me all the days of my life. And unless I am slain in battle, that will be a very long time."

"How are you able to go into battle? Do you not feel the emotions of all around you? Would that not be too much for you?"

"A shrewd question. Yes, it is difficult. As much as possible I shut off my ability while I am fighting, yet at the same time I must stay open so I can locate and distinguish those who are merely wounded from those who are dead."

"You mean among the enemy?" she asked in confusion.

"Yes. And among the elves. When an elf is severely wounded, he can put himself into a state where he appears dead but in fact is not. He is only healing. It is my duty to discern the difference and get them to safety if I can. Or at least fend off any further attacks upon them."

"At great risk to yourself," she added astutely.

"Indeed. So I am not the purposeless fool you first thought me," he added.

"I never thought you a fool."

"Nay, only useless and shallow. Oh, don't deny it. I felt your emotion."

She flushed. "If that is so, I beg your pardon most sincerely."

His beautiful face clearly showed his amusement. "Apology accepted. Now here comes the Marchwarden. I am going to give you up to your husband, my lovely. He grows impatient for your company."

Ferodir's arms were gone for but an instant when Haldir's arms replaced them. "You and Ferodir were having quite a conversation," he murmured.

She searched his eyes. "Are you sure you are not jealous?"

"Not at all," he said mildly. "Elves do not succumb to that emotion. I merely made a remark. I could make many more."

"Oh?" She lifted her chin and smiled. "Go ahead."

His arm tightened, drawing her closer so that his mouth was very near her ear. "I could remark upon how very beautiful you look. Or how well that gown suits you, both on and off. Especially off."

"Oh, so it is fresh remarks you want to make! And how much of that Lórien wine have you had?"

He kissed her ear. "Enough to make me bold. But not enough to prevent me from doing what I plan to do."

"And what is that?" she asked flirtatiously.

"Ah, you want the particulars, do you?"

She could feel herself blushing just a little. "Do I?"

"Of course you do."

And he began to whisper in her ear, describing in delicious, bone-melting detail exactly what he had in mind . . .

The celebration was still going on when, only a short while later, Haldir led Amarië quietly away from the crowd. It seemed to him to be an excellent time to depart. Rúmil was getting wild and dancing on the table in an effort to impress Brianna, who did not appear to be impressed. Orophin and many others were well on their way to getting drunk. Ennis and Lornarië had disappeared. Ferodir had disappeared. And no one at all seemed to be paying any heed to the Marchwarden and his new wife.

Except Galadriel, who sent him a silent message as they turned to go.

_Come to me at sunrise, Marchwarden. We have much to discuss._

tbc


	15. Preparation

**Part 14 – Preparation**

Haldir did not bother to speculate upon the reason he had been summoned to Galadriel and Celeborn, although as he mounted the steps to their audience chamber, he was conscious of a feeling of foreboding. This, followed by the fact that she had made a point to tell him to spend time with Amarië yesterday, suggested to him that she had some duty for him to fulfill which would remove him from the city. Of course he expected this, but still he had hoped to have a few more days with his wife.

He saw Galadriel first. She was not seated, but instead stood gazing out her eastern-facing window, and appeared quite wrapped in thought as she watched the pale colors slowly gild the sky with dawn's first light. When Haldir entered, she made no move, though he knew she was aware of him. Across the room, he saw that Celeborn sat at the table, studying a map. The Lord glanced up and nodded a greeting, but did not speak.

"It seems so strange," Galadriel said reflectively, "to watch the rising of the sun each morn. It is as though the world itself knows not that it is changing."

Haldir frowned, unsure if it was to him she spoke, or whether she required an answer. Finally, he made one since Celeborn did not. "In what way do you mean, my lady?"

Galadriel turned from her window and looked at him. "You know of the great evil that threatens us, just as you know that the time of the elves nears its end. Many are feeling the call to go home, Haldir. Have you not felt the call of the sea singing in your blood?"

"No, I have not felt it. Not yet."

"Nor has Celeborn. But I have felt it, and so have others." She walked over to her chair and sat down, the flawless beauty of her face betraying nothing of her thoughts. "Long have we lived in this world," she said. "We have shared in its history, its memories, its joys and sorrows. Whether we continue here or not, we have an obligation to this world. We need to share in its burdens. And its battles."

Haldir's brows drew together. "Have you had word of the Fellowship?"

"The Fellowship has broken. Frodo is still in possession of the One Ring, but whether his quest has a hope of success, I know not. The kingdom of Gondor is under siege. The kingdom of Rohan is threatened by the forces of Isengard. Théoden, King of Rohan, moves his people to Helm's Deep. My mirror has shown me that a great battle will soon take place there. I have spoken with Elrond of Imladris on this matter."

Haldir walked closer to her, curious to know where this was leading. "And what does Lord Elrond say?"

His queen's ancient blue eyes looked deeply into his, and he felt her brush against his mind. "We, along with Celeborn, feel that the world of men will fall if the elves do not take part in the battles that are to come."

Haldir took in the implications of her words all too quickly. "I see," he said tonelessly. "And you feel the world of Men is worth fighting for?"

"Do you?" she countered.

He drew a breath, disliking that she forced him to take a side on this. "I care nothing for the world of Men," he said in a flat voice.

Her brows raised. "Truly? What of Aragorn? I thought he had your respect. Would you see the last of the line of Isildur slain and feel nothing?"

Haldir shifted his gaze uncomfortably.

"What of your wife?" she continued. "She is only half-elven. What if she had not yet made her way to Lothlórien? Consider what you say, Haldir. But I know your mind, perhaps better than you do. You care. You only find the timing inconvenient."

Inconvenient? That was the understatement of the age!

He nearly said this, but thought better of it. "If I had known I was about to go into battle," he said steadily, "I would not have bound myself to Amarië."

"That is why I did not tell you," Galadriel replied.

His eyes narrowed. "I do not understand, my lady. What of this business of our Fëar? I am much concerned to know what will happen to her if I am slain."

"If you are slain, she will die," the Lady answered simply, "either immediately or of a broken heart or because . . . " She stopped.

He felt a frisson of anger at the matter-of-factness of her tone, but he smothered it. "And if we were not bound together? What then?" Again he felt her dip into his mind, taking whatever of his thoughts she wished.

"Then you would both have regretted it," she told him enigmatically. "Now you must speak to Celeborn. He will show you what must be done."

Keeping a tight rein on his temper, Haldir nodded curtly, and walked over to join the elf Lord at his table. It was taking him a few moments to assimilate what was taking place, to adjust his thoughts, and he did not bother to wait for an invitation to sit.

"Elrond's army left two days ago," Celeborn said. "A contingent of two hundred of their best warriors. They travel fast. Our army will meet up with them here, near the border of Lórien." He pointed at a spot on the map. "Speed is of the essence if we are to be of any use."

Haldir studied the map, wondering if it was possible for the Imladris elves to get to that location as quickly as necessary. Of course, elves could travel far more rapidly than humans, and could go without sleep.

"When will this battle take place?" he asked.

They discussed the particulars for a number of minutes while Galadriel stood nearby, listening in silence.

"The mortals must leave at once," Galadriel reminded them when there was a pause in the conversation. "They cannot stay here."

Haldir and Celeborn glanced at each other. "Yes," Celeborn agreed. "They cannot stay in Lórien. They must leave now, and under guard until they reach the border."

Haldir thought of Ennis, and what a blow this was going to be to Amarië. But what could he do? They were right. Ennis and his people must go.

"I will see to it at once," he said, rising to his feet. "I must go now. There is much to be done."

As he turned to go, Galadriel touched his arm. "Go to her first. Tell her."

He gave a single, short nod. "That is my intention."

xxx

Amarië woke to find Haldir's lips covering hers, the fall of his long, pale hair brushing against her arm. Drowsily, she opened her mouth, allowing his kiss to deepen as she reached for him. He was dressed, she noticed. She curled her arms around his neck, tugging on him, attempting to persuade him to join her on the bed, but he resisted.

"Amarië, I must talk to you," he said.

"What is it?" She opened her eyes fully, taking in his serious expression. She loosened her hold on his neck. "What is wrong?"

"You must rise and dress. At once." He drew back, looking at her oddly. He seemed different from the elf she had known the day before; her tender lover seemed to have slipped back into his Marchwarden persona.

She sat up quickly, clutching the sheet to her naked chest. "Why?"

"It is a good thing you are not one of my soldiers. They know enough to obey me without question." He picked up her chemise and tossed it to her. "Be quick. We do not have much time."

"What is this about?" she demanded, ignoring his domineering tone.

He sat down in the nearest chair and swiped a hand over his face. "I would give you a chance to bid farewell to your brother before he leaves Lothlórien."

"What?" She stared at him, then yanked the garment over her head and pulled it into place. "Has something happened? Has Rufus—"

"Rufus has done nothing. It is simply time for them to go."

"Time for them to go!" she repeated, unable to believe her ears. With a quick flash of anger, she surged to her feet. "Haldir, what are you saying?"

She could see the mixed emotions playing across his face. He loved her, but he was taken aback and displeased by her confrontational attitude. She had to remember that it was as he said, he was used to unquestioning obedience, and it would take some time and patience to alter that where she was concerned.

The tilt of his head changed as he looked at her, and his dark, high-arched brows pulled together. "I am saying that they must leave at once, by order of the Lady. To have them here will be a risk when I am gone."

She looked at him, coldness creeping down her spine. "Where are you going?"

He rose and came close to her, and set his hands upon her shoulders. "There is to be a battle. The elves of Lothlórien, as well as those from Imladris, will be going to a place called Helm's Deep to assist in defending the people of Rohan from attack by the forces of Isengard."

"A battle? You are going into battle?"

Her numbed mind could only center on this one thought. Dimly, she realized that her hands were pressed to her mouth, though she had no memory of placing them there. Was this it, the confluence of the warnings in her dreams? Shards of pure dread rebounded within her, cutting and stabbing at her insides. Adar, is this it? Is this it?

"Yes," Haldir answered.

"No!" She shook her head, nearly overtaken with panic. She gripped his tunic, shaking it as though to make her point. "No, you cannot go!"

"I have no choice. Most of our soldiers will be leaving. Only a few will stay to protect our borders, that is why your brother and his people must go."

He pried her fingers loose and tried to take her in his arms, but she pulled away, regarding him with open consternation. "Of course you have a choice! Just tell them no. Why must you go? Why not someone else?"

"You are behaving like a child," he said sternly. "I told you before, one cannot always live as one pleases. It is my duty to go. In fact, it is my duty and my honor to lead this army."

She shook her head, rejecting this. He seemed so willing. Not two days past he had told her he would never walk away and leave her, and already he was doing so. And into what? That which her dreams foretold?

"You _want_ to go? You _want_ to leave me?" Her breath was coming in short huffs.

His fist crashed down upon the table. "Of course I do not want to leave you! More than two thousand years have I waited for you, and two days have we had together! How can you ask me such a question?" He stared at her, his nostrils flaring, and she knew then that he was as unhappy about this as she was. Somehow that made it even worse.

She gazed deep into his eyes. "I see. So you truly do not have a choice."

"No, I do not. I am beholden to my Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn. Now please get dressed."

Clenching her jaw, she turned away from him, and picked up the gown she had left on the back of the chair. A single tear rolled down her cheek, and when she pulled on the gown, the ring he had given her the previous evening caught in the fabric and nearly ripped it. A strangled sound came from her throat as vague, horrifying images from her latest dream tumbled through her mind and quickly faded.

"Amarië," he said, more gently, "I know how you feel. But you must not worry about me. Many times have I fought in battles, and I am still here. I will come back to you."

She spun around to face him. "I want to go with you!"

"Absolutely not."

"I am skilled with a bow! And my swordplay is—"

"Merely adequate," he cut in. "The answer is no. Do not waste your breath or my time on such a ludicrous idea. You will stay here and wait for my return."

She flinched at his quick dismissal of her offer. "Do you discount the warnings given by my father? I had another dream last night, and I know there is something I must do, something to do with you and your well-being!"

"I have received no warnings. And you do not know for certain what is to happen, and even if you did, I would not let you go. War is not like target practice, Amarië. It is a vile, foul business."

"I know what war is like!" she fired back in sudden fury. "I have seen the results—"

"The results, yes!" he snapped. "But I do not think you have seen anything like what is soon to take place. This battle will not be easy. Many will die. If you were there, I would be distracted by your presence. You would put my life at risk, and yours too."

She thrust out her jaw, determined to make him see her point. "But, Haldir, I think I am supposed to be there! I am supposed to do something to help you, or protect you, or—"

"No!" he roared at her. "I forbid it! Do not ask me again." His mouth was set in an uncompromising line, reminding her of the way he'd looked the first time she had set eyes on him. You may go no further . . . The voice of authority was speaking.

She lowered her gaze and turned away from him, reaching for her shoes. "Very well," she said tightly. "I will not mention it again. I will go and see Ennis this instant."

She heard him sigh. "Forgive me, meleth," he said after a few seconds had passed. "But what you ask of me, I cannot grant. Now I will go with you to your brother. I must speak with him as well."

Frustrated and disturbed, Haldir did not glance at Amarië as they headed toward her former room, where Ennis should be sleeping unless Lornarië had taken him somewhere else. He understood she was frightened by her recurring dreams, and by the fear that he would be injured or slain. Yet he knew not how to comfort her, or even himself.

There had been times in the past when he had relished the opportunity to wield his sword and his bow against the creatures of darkness, but not now. Now such a prospect held no appeal. Galadriel was correct; he was importuned by the timing of this conflict, yet he also felt he had no right to feel so torn between his duty and his inclination. His own weakness dismayed and worried him. Always he must be strong and focused, resolute and prepared to fight. For his people, for Amarië, and now for the world of men. Regardless of personal preferences, he would lead this army. The old alliances would be honored.

xxx

Ennis woke with his arm around Lornarië's waist, her delightful derriere tucked snugly against his bare thighs. What a strange dream he had been having! What could it have meant? It was something to do with . . . but already it was fading.

The knock that had awakened him was repeated, and he eased himself out of the small bed and pulled on his trousers before he opened the door.

Amarië and Haldir stood outside, their faces grim.

"What is it?" Ennis looked from one to the other of them. "What is wrong?"

Haldir thrust his way into the room without an invitation, and seemed unsurprised to find Lornarië sitting in the bed with the sheet clasped to her bosom, her blue eyes wide and quizzical. He acknowledged her with a curt nod before he turned to Ennis.

"I bear what may be unwelcome tidings. You and your people must leave at once."

Ennis heard Lornarië's gasp, and for an instant he thought this had something to do with her, that he had violated some strict elven rule by sleeping with her. "Why?"

The next few minutes unfolded quickly. Amarië explained the matter in part, but Ennis soon turned to Haldir. "Do you have need of me in this battle?" he asked. "Or can I be of assistance in guarding your borders?"

Surprised by the offer, Haldir surveyed his brother-in-law with increased respect. "No, you must leave, all of you. If it were only you, then yes, I might consider it. But the rest of the humans I do not trust. You must be sure you take them far away from here and keep the information I have given you to yourself. We do not want outsiders to know that Lothlórien will be so lightly protected."

Ennis frowned. "Of course, if that is your wish."

"We will take you down to the armory. Lord Celeborn has instructed me to give you one of our elven swords if you will accept it. It is enchanted with Elvish spells and very deadly. It should serve you well." Haldir's eyes shifted to Lornarië, who had not spoken a word thus far. "We will give you a moment to say your goodbyes."

They stepped outside, and Ennis turned and looked at the beautiful enchantress who had gifted him with a night he would always remember. He walked over to her and touched a finger to her soft cheek. "So already we part," he murmured. "Perhaps it is best. Another night in your company, and you would steal my heart forever."

"You have stolen mine already," she whispered. "How is that possible? You are a mortal."

He sat down on the edge of the bed and took her hand in his. "I am not so different from an elf, I think. Just the shape of my ears, and the fact that my body will age and yours will not. Otherwise, we are the same. We live and breathe and feel and think."

She moved closer and pressed a kiss on his lips. "I will pray to the Valar for your safety. You will come back to Lórien someday, and we will meet again."

"Perhaps I will come back," he agreed. "With my sister here, I have a sound reason. I think the Marchwarden will let me in."

Lornarië smiled bravely. "I think he will too. I will make sure of it."

xxx

Without telling Haldir where she was going, Amarië left his side while he took Ennis into the armory, and looked frantically around. She must find Ferodir. Where had he gone? He had just been here a moment ago! She darted across the grass, calling his name, heedless of the curious looks cast at her by several elves in the vicinity.

"Yes, princess?" drawled a familiar voice. "You search for me?"

She whirled around and found him standing almost directly behind her, one dark eyebrow cocked. "Ferodir, do you know? Do you know about the battle?"

He bowed slightly. "I have been told. We are all preparing."

"You are going then?"

"Of course. Most of us are."

She bit her lip, gazing up into his beautiful face with its astounding blue eyes and flawless features. "You know what I would ask of you?"

"I think so," he said gently. "Right now I am besieged with your emotions. You fear for the safety of the one you love."

"Yes," she admitted, grateful he did not tease. "But I do not want you to think me merely some foolish, weeping woman. There is a reason for my fears."

He nodded. "This bladed tooth business. Your dreams."

"You know of them?"

"I have been picking up pieces of your thoughts for days now, and occasionally at night." His wicked smile flashed. "Not thoughts concerning your more intimate moments, I hasten to add. Those I have been filtering out."

She did not bother to respond to this. "Please, you must promise me you will protect him! Something is going to happen to him, but I know not what it is. What you told me last night . . . about being able to tell if a wounded elf is still alive . . ."

He caught hold of her hands and held them firmly. "Amarië, I promise you I will do my best. I always do. But I must tell you that Haldir and I do not usually fight side by side. As a rule, he and I position ourselves at opposite ends of our regiment."

She looked at him, beseeching him with her eyes. "But perhaps this time you could stay together?"

Ferodir sighed. "My lovely one, you must understand that I will do what I am ordered to do. I am under the Marchwarden's authority just like all the other elves. In battle, that is. Not here in Lothlórien. But this I will promise you, if I see him fall, I will do everything in my power to reach his side, even if it means the loss of my own life. I know not if you realize this, but Haldir is like a brother to me." He grinned. "A much older, stubborn, pompous, and extremely annoying brother. One that is . . . much loved."

And with this she was forced to be satisfied.

xxx

Haldir watched his wife bid a tearful farewell to her brother, wishing he could do something to alleviate this double burden on her shoulders. This was certainly not the way he would have chosen for events to unfold. A few days ago, he had been anxious for Ennis to leave, now he wished he could ask him to stay. But he could not.

Already the elves of Lothlórien were donning their battle armor, and soon he would do the same. He had selected the elves who would remain to guard the borders, and some of these would be escorting Ennis and the rest of the mortals to the boundaries of their land.

He walked over to say his final farewell to Ennis, who now wore an elven sword strapped to his waist. "If you return to Lothlórien, you will be welcome here," he said, setting a hand on the young mortal's shoulder. "But I pray you choose your companions with care and wisdom. In general, humans are not—"

"—welcome in your land," Ennis finished with atypical and rather wry wit. "I have learned that. Take care of my sister, Marchwarden. And take care of yourself."

Haldir nodded. He noticed that Amarië still avoided his gaze, but he sensed it was not because she was angry with him, but because she feared she would break down and weep. All he yearned to do right now was to take her in his arms and kiss her, but of course he could not do that, not with all these others around. With iron resolve, he shoved the thought from his mind.

And then Ennis and the mortals were leaving, flanked by eight fully armed elves who understood completely what was required of them. Haldir watched Amarië walk away, knowing she meant to accompany her brother as far as the city gates. He sighed, taking in the sight of her as she moved rather forlornly across the grass, her chestnut hair lifting in the breeze, her blue gown billowing around her legs. His heart flipped over at the sight of her. He loved her so much.

He frowned slightly. Of course he would come back to her. Until recently he had only focused on the moment, never thinking of what lay ahead. The future had never held much allure to him before, being just a stretch of empty days lasting into eternity. It was how he had survived all these long years. Now the future mattered to him.

Yes, he would come back. They would have an eternity together—an eternity of days and nights, an eternity of passion, an eternity to learn and love and develop new interests. An eternity in which to bear and raise their children. Together they would sail to the Undying Lands, to that place of unending joy and perfect peace, to that place where on occasion even the Valar still walked. One day he would feel the call to go there . . .to go home to Valinor.

Once more he pushed his wayward thoughts aside. None of this would come to pass if he faltered now. He must prepare himself for war.

xxx

Amarië watched her brother disappear down the hill outside the city, a thousand memories of their lives together sifting though her thoughts. Then she spun around, seized with an idea. Gathering her skirts in her hand, she raced through the city, past mellyrn after mellyrn tree until she reached the greatest of them all, the one that held the talan of the Lord and Lady. Climbing the steps as fast as she could, she was panting with exertion by the time she reached the top. Guards stood outside the door, but they allowed her to pass as she timidly poked her head inside the audience chamber.

As she had hoped, Galadriel was inside. The Lady stood at one of her windows, gazing out upon her golden wood with deep sadness etched upon her features. "Come in, Amarië," she said quietly. "I've been expecting you."

Amarië entered and shut the door. "My lady," she said, touching her brow with respect, "I would speak with you, if I may."

Galadriel slowly turned and looked at her. "You desire to go with him."

"Would it be so wrong?" Amarië clenched her hands into fists. "I know there are females among his soldiers. He might allow it if you suggested it."

"If you go with him, you will both die."

Amarië stared at her. "You know this?"

Galadriel inclined her head. "My mirror shows me many things. That is the most probable outcome to such an action on your part."

Amarië's shoulders slumped. "Then I know not what to do," she whispered.

"On the contrary," the Lady's voice rang out clearly and distinctly, "you know exactly what to do. You know how to do it and when to do it. You have been preparing for this for years."

"For what, my lady?" Amarië spoke with sudden ferocity. "For what have I been preparing?"

"To face your Truth, child. The truth of who you are and what you are capable of doing and why you are here at this time and in this place. A chain of events is unfolding in which you play a part. Each link in that chain is small, yet each is just as important as the next. Your part may not seem large, but it has great value."

"You speak in riddles, my lady. And I am sorry if that seems impertinent."

Galadriel's smile was faint. "There can be much truth in a riddle. You must learn to trust, Amarië. Lack of trust is your great flaw."

"Who should I trust?" This also was a whisper.

"You trust yourself. And you trust those who love you, not just Haldir but others also. You are more loved than you realize."

Amarië was silent.

"Your grandfather and I are here to help you. When it is time for you to do that which you must do, we will be with you. Now go back to your husband. Spend these last minutes with him, and let him know your love for him so that he can carry it in his heart when he leaves. It will give him strength."

Amarië bowed her head. "Yes, my lady. I will do that."

xxx

By the time she returned to the armory, dozens of elves were milling about, many of them already garbed in their armor and carrying helmets under their arms. Amarië looked around for Haldir, but did not see him. Instead, she saw Rúmil and Orophin walking toward her, and was struck anew with dread on their behalf. Guiltily, she realized that she had been so focused on Haldir that she had barely spared a thought for sweet Rúmil and Orophin, both of whom she was beginning to love very dearly.

"Hello, little sister," Rúmil greeted with a grin. He appeared undaunted by the prospect of going to war, and indeed looked quite animated. "How do you like my fine armor? Do I not look quite dashing?"

She forced a smile, though she knew her eyes were growing moist. "Oh, yes, Rúmil, you look very fine. You and Orophin both look splendid and so handsome. But I do wish none of you were going!"

Orophin wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Do not worry for us, sweet sister Amarië. We will take care of each other. And we will both stay close to Haldir, unless he orders otherwise."

Now her eyes were truly full of tears. "You are both so dear to me, I want you to know that. I know we have not known each other very long, but . . ."

"But it has been long enough," Rúmil replied, "for love to grow." And he kissed her gently on the cheek and gave her another of his sweet smiles.

Orophin kissed her on the brow. "Pray to the Valar for our safe return, dear one. I love you also, as a brother loves his sister. We will come back to you. All of us." His eyes moved past her. "He wishes to speak with you. Go now, he is waiting."

Amarië turned around and felt her heart drop into her stomach. Haldir stood a short distance across the grass, wearing magnificent gold and black battle armor and a dark red cape. Unlike the other elves, he carried no helmet.

She walked over to him, her eyes clinging to his. His face betrayed no sign of what he was thinking. "Where is your helmet?" she asked him tensely.

"I do not wear one. As the one in command, I must be able to see and hear everything that is happening."

"I see." She swallowed painfully. "Haldir—"

"Amarië—"

They had spoken at the same time, and oddly, this broke the barrier between them.

He reached out and drew her close to him, and she pressed against him, her arms encircling his neck, ignoring the discomfort of his armor.

"_Meleth, meleth_," he murmured, "I am sorry I spoke harshly to you this morning. I know this is difficult for you."

"No, Haldir, it is I who am sorry. You have your duty. I was wrong to behave so childishly."

"You were only expressing your opinions and your feelings, and that you have the right to do. You are not one of my soldiers. You are my wife. I do not expect subservience from you."

She smiled through the tears now streaming openly down her cheeks. "Only obedience," she teased, her voice breaking on another small sob. "Subservience you will not get from me, meleth, although I will always make a reasonable attempt to please you. I want you to be happy. I want to make you happy."

"You do, you do," he whispered, and brushed his lips against her temple, then kissed her eyelids where the moisture leaked from beneath her lashes. "What I would give to be able to feel your flesh against mine one more time before I go."

"Come back to me, _meleth nín_. I love you so. I cannot live without you."

"You will never have to," he promised. He bent and kissed her hard on the lips, his hands on either side of her head. "Do not fear. I know you will pray for me, but when you do, pray also for my brothers and Ferodir. And all the rest."

"I will, I will." She smoothed her fingers over his beautiful pale hair, focusing on his small smile and the love she saw in his piercing gray eyes. "I am so proud of you. I know that all will be well. And I will pray for you and your brothers and all the other elves."

And then he had to draw away, for it was time for the elves of Lothlórien to make their way across their land to the place where they would join with the elves of Imladris.

From there, the combined army would march to Helm's Deep with as much fleetness as possible. For the time of the great battle grew near.

tbc


	16. Battles

~*~  
  
Thank you once again for the feedback and interest! Here is the next chapter. I hope it holds your interest and adds to the story's excitement. :)  
  
~*~  
  
Part 15 - Battles  
  
If she hit the target squarely in the center, he would be safe.  
  
Aiming carefully, Amarië pulled back the string of her bow, her fingers brushing her cheek, her eyes narrowed in concentration. She loosed the arrow and watched it strike the intended mark exactly where she intended.  
  
She drew another arrow from her quiver and nocked it. If she put this arrow within a hairsbreadth of the other one, he would come safely home to her. Again, she loosed her arrow, and again it struck where she intended.  
  
How long would she continue this foolish exercise? She had been doing this for over an hour now, and it made her feel no better even though each time her aim had been true. It had only been a few hours since he had left. This time yesterday they had been making love in the woods. Now there was only this terrible feeling of emptiness.  
  
She could not endure this waiting. What was she to do with her time? How could she shut out her fear? Her tears had stopped flowing, but now that horrible tightness in her chest had returned, the one that kept her from being able to cry.  
  
"You suffer much," said a soft female voice behind her.  
  
Startled, Amarië swung around. She had thought she was completely alone on the archery range, but she was wrong. Lornarië stood near, her lips curved in a small, sad smile.  
  
Amarië shouldered her bow. "How long have you been there?"  
  
"A few minutes. I came to see if there was anything I could do for you."  
  
"That is kind of you, but there is nothing."  
  
"If it is any consolation, there are others who suffer as you do. Many of our soldiers left lovers behind. Some are bound as you are. And some are not."  
  
Amarië flushed. "I know there are others. You must think me selfish."  
  
"Of course I do not!" Lornarië came close and laid a hand on her arm. "Each of us deals with our pain in our own way. I suffer too, for I have lost the one I love already."  
  
"Oh, Lornarië, no!" Amarië gazed with dismay at the elf-maiden. "Do you mean Ennis?"  
  
Lornarië nodded, her blue eyes shimmering with tears. "It seems absurd. I have had many lovers over the years-Ferodir, Haldir, Rúmil and Orophin, among others. You may not like hearing that, but it is true. And though I loved each of them and still do, I always wondered why I did not fall _in_ love with any of them." A tear rolled down her cheek. "But, oh, Amarië, I fell _in_ love with Ennis, and in a single night! And I know not if he loves me in return, nor if I will ever see him again. Truly, I am the most wretched soul in existence. What am I going to do?"  
  
Amarië did not hesitate, but took Lornarië in her arms and held her while she cried. "I am so very sorry." She murmured soothing little phrases even as she absorbed the words the elf-maiden had spoken.  
  
Lornarië had been one of Haldir's lovers. And just as she had told Haldir, she found it disturbed her not at all to know this. How could these elves survive their long lives if they did not take pleasure in each other? The weeping maiden in her arms was one of those who had helped him keep the loneliness at bay, and that made Lornarië very precious indeed.  
  
"Come," she said, as Lornarië's sobs began to subside. "We will both see Ennis again. If he has fallen in love with you as you have with him, he is too stubborn to give you up so easily."  
  
"Do you think so?" Lornarië gulped. "I know he said he might come back, but I dared not believe him. It would be too painful to hope and have it come to naught."  
  
"There is always hope," Amarië replied firmly.  
  
"Yes, I suppose you are right." Lornarië slipped her arm through Amarië's as they walked together across the field, whether to give or receive comfort, neither of them knew.  
  
Amarië drew in a deep breath, inhaling the pungent scent of grass and wildflowers, listening to the rustle of the mellyrn trees and the sweet songs of the birds overhead. All around her, life continued, yet she felt so confused. How she wished she could remember her dreams! What was this Truth of which Galadriel spoke? What was she supposed to do?  
  
Perhaps it was as others said. She would know what to do when the time came to do it. She must release her distrust and have faith. Right now she would spend time with Lornarië, and when she was alone again, she would do what she had vowed to do.  
  
She would pray.  
  
And she would trust that in time, all would be revealed.  
  
#  
  
Ennis led his men westward along the Celebrant, his thoughts anxious and very dark. They trod the path they had taken to get here, following the river across the plain to where it cut into the depths of the Misty Mountains. With Amarië gone, the men now accepted him as their leader even though he lacked the years that many of them had. The elven sword he carried seemed to have its effect upon them, as though by its very presence in his belt, it conferred to him some fundamental status. Had he really acquired skills that surpassed the others, as everyone seemed to think? And did that give him the right to be their leader?  
  
Over the course of the past two weeks, Haldir had told Ennis that his progress had been unprecedented. His reflexes had sharpened, the strokes of his sword faster and more precise than they had ever been. And his archery skills had vastly improved, though not to the level of the elves' or his sister's proficiency. So much had he learned, and in such a short time! He knew he ought to be pleased, and yet his heart felt heavy.  
  
Was it because of Lornarië? Yes, that was certainly much of it. Everything had happened so fast, he had hardly had time to digest what had taken place, or to sort out his resulting emotions. He had never been in love, and had for so long considered elves as dangerous beings that he could not quite take in what had happened, or understand why he had done what he had done. He only knew his heart ached for this elf-maiden in a way that it had never ached before. Frowning, he contemplated this as he walked across the fields and clambered over and around a seemingly endless sea of rocky outcroppings.  
  
That explained his depression, but the source of his anxiety came from the knowledge that the world of men stood in such dire threat, and that the elves marched into what would likely be a terrible battle. Not only did this trouble him deeply, but he did not like leaving his sister or Lornarië in a city so lightly protected. Another worry brushed his mind, that if things did not go well, his sister might soon become a widow. And though he was loath to admit it, his initial dislike of the March Warden had faded. He still thought Haldir stuffy and arrogant and standoffish, but he also had a huge respect for him and his abilities, as well as all the other elves. Haldir was a worthy husband for Amarië, Ennis reflected.  
  
But right now he must return to his homeland far to the west of the Misty Mountains, to combat the evil that besieged so many of the good people there. It was his mission, one he had sworn to do, and yet he now wondered whether the need for him might be greater elsewhere. Never before had he felt so conflicted, nor had life ever seemed so complicated. He had always thought of himself as a simple young man, with simple needs and simple thoughts and even simple humor. Yet he was changing. Something was different. He felt bolder, stronger, more self-assured. Taller, even.  
  
And when he held the elven sword in his hand, he could almost feel its magic. And it troubled him not at all. What was happening to him?  
  
Where the Orcs came from, he never knew, but he heard them before the others did, the heavy tramp of their steel-booted footfalls filling him with foreboding. He had not anticipated that his fighting skills would be tested so soon or so close to Lothlórien.  
  
He heard his own voice shouting as he raised his bow, putting an arrow into the first Orc before the others had even raised their swords. Two more did he kill before they were upon him, but by then his hand held the elven sword, the sword that carried the protection of Elvish spells within its steel. By Varda, he hoped they would help. He looked around at all the Orcs. There were so many, so many . . .  
  
He could only fight for his own life; he could do nothing to help the others. They were vastly outnumbered, yet his men were doing well, holding their own, slashing and hacking with their swords against these vile creatures with their angry red eyes and fetid breath. Their bows were of no use now; 'twas well that most of the men had concentrated on swordplay training. The improvement could be seen as Orc after Orc fell to the ground, howling with pain and fury as the men's weapons found the weak spots in their armor. From the corner of his eye, Ennis could see that at least two of his men were dead, but the rest still fought bravely. Nearby he could see young Angus chopping and slicing and parrying, but he could do nothing to assist him; he had his own problems.  
  
At the moment, Ennis faced two large Orcs, both circling him with leering grins. Sweat poured from his brow as he prepared to lunge at one of them. The creature swung at him and he parried, then side-stepped as the other sent its weapon swinging through the air an inch from his chest. Ennis kicked out a foot, ramming the first Orc in the stomach, while he swiveled and swung his blade at the other. In the next instant, the second Orc nearly took off his head, but Ennis managed to duck with a fraction of an inch to spare.  
  
He continued in this mode for some time, ducking and spinning, whirling and blocking, trying to edge toward a large boulder where he could gain an advantage. He could hear the moans of the dying all around him, both men and Orcs, but he shut it out. Just once, Lornarië's image flashed through his mind, but he shoved it aside and instead focused on what Haldir had showed him, taught him.  
  
It helped just enough. He killed one of the Orcs with the first elven move he had learned, a deadly double whirl of his blade, combined with a smooth step to the side and a quick half-turn. As the first Orc dropped to the ground, the second roared its rage, exposing its rotting teeth as it loomed closer. Ennis drew a breath and tried another trick that Haldir had taught him. A moment later black blood spewed over his clothing as the Orc's head separated from its body and landed with a soft thud at his feet.  
  
Elated, Ennis now had momentum to aid him. Perhaps the powerful elven spells in this sword were also helping to enhance his abilities, but whatever the case, in the next few minutes he killed at least a dozen Orcs, his movements faster and more adept than they had ever been. Breathing hard, he paused for a moment, glancing around to find his next victim when, from the corner of his eye, he saw an Orc charge toward him. Ennis' lips pulled back in a snarl as he started to turn, raising his sword to block, but there was no time and he knew he was dead. Even as this thought flew through his mind, he heard a ringing bellow, like that of a raging bull, as Rufus hurled himself forward, thrusting his large body between Ennis and the charging Orc. To Ennis' horror, the Orc's weapon struck Rufus, sinking deep into the red-headed man's stomach and out the other side.  
  
Ennis killed that Orc and went on to the next one, having no time to attend to Rufus or any other. Many of the men were now slain, and most of the Orcs, but there were still more than a dozen to finish off. He went to work, knowing that two of his own were still with him, but then another fell with a sharp cry and went silent. Rage such as Ennis had never known swept through him, and he distantly heard himself roar as he hunted down the last few Orcs, who by now had started to show signs of fear.  
  
Ennis went after each of them without mercy, his hot fury now gone cold as ice. And when the last of the evil creatures lay dead, he looked around and saw that only one other man stood upright, the young apprentice to the blacksmith, Angus. Like Ennis, Angus was covered in black blood, his chest heaving as he stared in horror at the carnage.  
  
"Search for survivors," Ennis ordered roughly.  
  
Angus gave a jerky nod and began to move.  
  
Ennis went first to Rufus, dropping to his knees beside the one whom he knew had saved his own life. To his amazement, the red-haired man still lived, gasping for air, strangled sobs emitting from his thick throat. Ennis bent over him.  
  
"Forgive," Rufus managed to get out, his voice raspy. "Forgive me."  
  
Ennis frowned. "There is nothing to forgive, Rufus. You saved my life."  
  
"Nay . . . I tried to rape her . . . your sister . . . the one I called witch."  
  
"You raped Amarië?" Ennis drew back in revulsion and dismay.  
  
Blood trickled from Rufus' mouth. "Nay, but . . . I tried . . . I hit her . . . the elf stopped me."  
  
Ennis frowned, disturbed that he had not been told. "The elf? You mean Haldir?"  
  
"Aye . . . he spared my life . . . I thought him weak for it . . . but I was wrong . . . forgive . . ." The rattle of death sounded in Rufus' throat.  
  
"It is not for me to forgive you," Ennis said quietly. "It is not I whom you transgressed against. But for what it is worth, I forgive you. And when I tell Amarië that you saved my life, I think she will also. Be at peace, Rufus."  
  
A moment later, he closed the dead man's eyes, then rose quickly as Angus staggered up.  
  
"No one," Angus told him, his voice cracking. "No one lives. Only you and I." The young man sank slowly to his knees. "And I, too, am wounded."  
  
And so it was that Ennis returned to Lothlórien, carrying an unconscious Angus on his back, leaving behind the bodies of his men and more than sixty Orcs.  
  
#  
  
The elven army headed south at the fastest possible pace, by mid- afternoon approaching the eastern border of Fangorn, known also as Entwood, which they would have to skirt in order to reach Rohan. Helm's Deep still lay more than seventy leagues to the south. They had a long way to go, but the elves knew how to rest while they traveled, and occasionally made brief stops where huge numbers of them would immediately lapse into reverie while the others stood guard.  
  
Haldir had managed to keep his mind blank these first few hours, but now and then he allowed himself to think of Amarië. He had no doubts about the veracity of her dreams since she had clearly learned the Elvish tongue while she slept. Nor did he doubt that he had been right to forbid her to come. What other decision could he have made? None. Even if he had wished it, she had not the physical stamina to travel at this rate of speed. Yet why had she felt so strongly that she was meant to be at this battle? What could she possibly do for him that he could not do for himself?  
  
With an irritable sigh, Haldir wished Amarië's father had visited him in his dreams. Perhaps then he might have known what to say to her, how to calm her fears. For himself, he felt no fear. When one had lived as long as he had, and seen as many battles as he had, and survived every one of them, it was difficult to think that the day might come when he would fall. He glanced down at his hand. The binding ring on his finger still felt new and odd, yet he would not take it off. It would serve as a talisman, a reminder of her love.  
  
A reminder of all the reasons he wished to live.  
  
#  
  
For hours she had sat here, at the city's highest flet, praying and gazing out over the Golden Wood, reliving every moment she had spent in Lothlórien. Every glance Haldir had given her, every word he had spoken replayed in her mind, be it angry or loving, she did not care. She only wanted to hold every memory close.  
  
"Amarië," said a deep voice. "I thought I might find you here."  
  
Startled, she swiveled to face Lord Celeborn. He no longer wore flowing robes, but instead was garbed in a gray tunic and black leggings and under-tunic much like Haldir's, with a sword strapped to his waist and a bow and quiver on his shoulder.  
  
"My lord," she said with alarm. "You are not going into battle too?"  
  
"No, I remain in the city, but I am prepared to defend it, should the occasion arise." He sat down beside her on the bench. "Galadriel does not foresee it in her mirror, but I felt it was wise to be ready." He gave her an inscrutable look. "I cannot leave. You will need me later."  
  
"To do that which I am meant to do?"  
  
He nodded slowly, and settled an arm around her shoulders. "You do not weep, but you feel much fear and concern."  
  
"How can I not?" she replied wearily.  
  
"Indeed. And yet it is important to remember that light has more power than darkness."  
  
She went rigid. "That is one thing my father told me in my dreams! I remember!"  
  
"It is Truth, child. Darkness is the absence of light. That which IS must be more powerful than that which is NOT."  
  
"Then how can darkness gain such a foothold?" she demanded in frustration. "The power of darkness and evil seems to do nothing but grow!"  
  
Celeborn sighed. "I know not the answer to your question. There is much I do not understand. Even Galadriel does not see all, nor does she know exactly what it is that you must do. All she knows is that you can save him."  
  
Words flowed into Amarië's head, and without pausing to think, she spoke them aloud. "Darkness gains a foothold because there are so many who believe in it. To believe in something is to gift it with power. Do you see? To win against darkness, we must believe in the light. And our belief must be stronger and purer and more steadfast than the beliefs of those who choose evil. With conscious intent and understanding, we must choose and uphold the power of the light."  
  
Lord Celeborn lifted an eyebrow. "You seem to have answered your own question, granddaughter," he said gently.  
  
She gazed into his deep blue eyes. "Yes," she said, her brow furrowed with perplexity. "I do not know where the knowledge came from. It just entered my head."  
  
"Perhaps it is because the time draws near." His head lifted suddenly. "I must go. Galadriel wishes to speak with me."  
  
#  
  
Three Lórien elves greeted Ennis as he entered the Wood, only one of whom was known to him personally. Their bows were not drawn, for though it was nearly dark, they had been watching his approach for some time and indeed had been expecting him. One went forward and relieved him of his burden, laying Angus gently upon the forest floor while another quickly knelt over the wounded man.  
  
Ennis drew in the dirt with a stick, indicating what had occurred and how many Orcs had been slain. The three elves looked at each other and then at Ennis, their expressions confirming what he had suspected. If this group of Orcs had reached Lothlórien, it might have gone very badly for the elves. It appeared that the humans had guarded the Lórien borders after all, most of them paying for it with their lives.  
  
And the elf that Ennis recognized, one who had once mocked and taunted the men upon the training grounds, now bowed his head and touched a hand to his heart in a humble gesture of respect for the great sacrifice the humans had made.  
  
His two companions did the same, then the tallest elf put his fingers to his lips and made a birdlike call. Within moments, a pale gray wood dove flew down and landed on his arm. The elf touched the bird gently, speaking soft Elvish words to it as he caressed its head and back. Then he released the bird, and it fluttered up to a nearby branch and looked down at them, cooing placidly.  
  
The elf turned to Ennis, then glanced at the other two elves. A brief discussion ensued, in which they seemed to be debating the correct common tongue words to explain what they wished to say. Finally the first elf looked back at Ennis. "Morning," he said, and pointed to the dove. "Go. Caras Galadhon." More gestures followed.  
  
Ennis understood that in the morning they would follow the dove to the city because there was no discernible path and because no elf could be spared to show him the way. Tonight, the elves would heal Angus of his injuries, which now appeared less grave than he had imagined, and they would sleep on an elven flet high above the ground.  
  
And despite the horror of the day, despite the fact that he was bruised and weary, covered with Orc blood and sweat and the smell of death, Ennis could not help feeling a surge of elation. Because he had a chance to see Lornarië one more time.  
  
#  
  
Amarië barely slept that night. For hours she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering where Haldir was, what was happening, how long she would have to wait. At one point she thought of their connection, and managed to calm herself enough so she could use it to reach out to him. Within moments, she could feel the shimmering hum of his life force, which told her only that he was still alive and well. It was a comfort, one that put a touch of warmth into her heart and enabled her to get a small amount of rest before the dawn arrived.  
  
In the morning, Lornarië arrived with food for both of them, setting the tray down carefully upon the table before she said soberly, "I have spoken with the Lady, and have been given leave to tell you that the mortals met with a large party of Orcs not far from the Lórien border."  
  
"What happened?" Amarië touched her throat, her breath suddenly cut off.  
  
"There was a fierce battle. All the Orcs were slain, but-I am sorry to have to tell you this-most of the mortals were also slain." She lifted a hand as Amarië turned white. "Fear not! Ennis lives! And one other only. But the Lady has communicated with the elves on the border and instructed that Ennis and the other one are to return to the city. She says she has seen a reason why Ennis must come back."  
  
Amarië sat down slowly in the chair, feeling both sickened and relieved. "Did she say what that reason was?"  
  
Lornarië shook her head, and seated herself in the other chair. "No, and I dared not ask. I assume she has seen something in her mirror. Come, let us eat," she added gently. "You need to keep up your strength. It will be hours yet before Ennis arrives."  
  
Amarië nodded. "You are right," she said with a sigh.  
  
#  
  
The sun was setting by the time Ennis and Angus passed through the gates of the elven city. An elven guard met them, one who spoke the common tongue, and instructed them to follow a female elf, who would take them to Galadriel.  
  
The two men were weary, but did as they were told, following the elegant elf along a pathway that led to one of the many winding stairways that encircled these giant trees. Hundreds of steps led them upward into this tree near the center of the city, perhaps the greatest among what must surely be hundreds. Ennis noted the way Angus gaped in awe, much as he himself had done only two days before. Strangely, Ennis now felt almost at ease here, though he still looked around him with a true sense of wonder.  
  
They arrived at a high flet with yet another stairway leading to an arched doorway, and he saw that the Lady stood upon the top step, her glow illuminating everything around her. He had seen her at the celebration, observed her with interest, but she had not then exuded such a strong light, nor had she spoken to him, although she had looked at him and smiled. Now her unearthly light nearly blinded them, and he suddenly realized that he was viewing her with all her power revealed.  
  
Slowly, and with such incredible grace that she almost appeared to float, Galadriel descended the stairs and stopped before them, her beautiful face set in a sorrowful expression as she took in their dishevelment and fatigue.  
  
"You did what you could," she said gently, "and it was all you could do. Do not allow guilt to cast its yoke upon your spirits. Your companions fought bravely. Each has gone to the halls of his fathers and even at this moment rejoices."  
  
She moved to stand directly in front of Angus, who trembled under her intense gaze. "Your destiny lies in Rohan," she told him. "In time, you will make your way back to the land of your own people. You are the chosen one, the one who will teach them all that you have learned from the elves and that which you have yet to learn from the Rohirrim. Your life was spared for this reason. You will not return to Lórien."  
  
She transferred her somber gaze to Ennis, gazing deeply into his eyes as if she could see into the very depths of his soul. "Your future lies veiled from me, young Ennis. You have two paths from which to choose and they differ widely. All your life they have been there, side by side, but you have only seen one. Now you stand with one foot on each path, and soon they will diverge. Only one can you choose, and I know not which it will be, nor can I advise you in any way."  
  
"What paths are these?" Ennis dared to ask.  
  
But the Lady did not answer. "We will give you two horses. They are elven-trained and will not wear saddles, but you will manage. One of them is sentient, and will be told where to take you. You must ride quickly. The battle of Helm's Deep will be over by the time you arrive, but there will be much for both of you to do. Trust your feelings. They will be your guide."  
  
"Does this mean you see the outcome of the battle?" Ennis inquired boldly.  
  
Galadriel shook her head. "No, that is hidden from me." She glanced at Angus, whose eyes were huge and full of wonder, then returned her gaze to Ennis. "I have lived thousands of years. Once I lived in Valinor. I have even walked among the Valar themselves. But I cannot see whether the darkness will succeed or fail. All I know is that we must continue to fight. We cannot give in."  
  
She reached out and touched Ennis beneath the chin, lifting it with a gentle pressure from her fingertips. For a long moment she studied his face. "Go now, both of you. Bathe and rest. Food and fresh clothing will be brought to you. Before you leave, you will speak with your sister. And Lornarië," she added, with the tiniest smile. She turned and ascended the stairs, then paused and glanced back. "Namárie."  
  
Their female elf-guide stepped forward. "You will follow me," she said softly.  
  
#  
  
It was dark when the elven army reached the massive fortress of Helm's Deep, built directly into the rocky walls and northern valleys of the White Mountains. They had traveled far with great fleetness, yet both the Imladris and Lothlórien elves were in peak physical condition and were prepared to fight. As they approached the sloped causeway leading up to the gates, the elf behind Haldir blew the elven horn to announce their arrival.  
  
Haldir led the army inside, gratified that the crisp lines of elven warriors marched with such precision despite the grueling journey. Since in his heart he felt that Elves were superior to the race of Men, he wished them to make a good impression when they arrived, which they were doing, if the awed looks on the faces around them were any indication.  
  
An older man wearing finely crafted armor rushed forward and stared at Haldir and the elven army, his bewilderment laced with shock. His noble bearing and air of authority told Haldir that this was Théoden, King of Rohan.  
  
"How can this be?" the king exclaimed, betraying with that single sentence how little faith he'd had in the likelihood that Elves or Men would come to his aid this night. Théoden had already resigned himself to defeat, Haldir reflected a bit critically. Elves would not have behaved so, but the race of Men was different. Their lives were short, their hopes shifting.  
  
Haldir began the speech he had prepared ahead of time, announcing the elves' intentions of honoring the ancient alliances, but was unable to finish before Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli the Dwarf arrived. Haldir smiled slightly to acknowledge them, and was about to continue his speech when Aragorn forestalled him by rushing forward with a wide grin.  
  
"Mae govannen!" Aragorn flung his arms around Haldir and hugged him, quite unnecessarily, in the March Warden's opinion. "You are most welcome!"  
  
Taken aback and rather amused, Haldir had but an instant to choose his reaction. He opted for diplomacy. As Galadriel had correctly pointed out, he respected Aragorn, even if the man was a little impulsive with his emotions. Haldir therefore smiled and tried to look gracious while being enveloped by the mortal heir to the throne of Gondor. Then Legolas moved forward to greet him, and Haldir saw the other elf look straight into his eyes and lift a brow. Without a doubt, Legolas perceived that Haldir had taken a wife since last they'd met, but Legolas only smiled and said nothing.  
  
Haldir turned once more to King Théoden and finished his speech. "We are proud to fight alongside Men once more."  
  
It was the truth. They were proud and ready to fight, for many of the elves felt as Galadriel did, that they owed much to the land of Arda where they had dwelled for so long. And all wished to see the evil destroyed, the evil that the elves and even the Valar themselves had fought against for so long. Yet Sauron, servant of Morgoth and perhaps the mightiest of the Maiar, continued to wield power, and it was easy to see why so many would despair.  
  
The elves were divided up, some taking their places on the wall, while others drew back where they could let loose with a mass volley of arrows when the time came. Haldir still commanded his elves, but as the future King of Gondor, Aragorn superceded him in rank, which Haldir accepted without question. Even Théoden seemed to wish Aragorn to be in command, which made sense since Aragorn spoke fluent Elvish.  
  
Haldir stood gazing out into the dark, his elven ears picking up the distant sounds of the approaching enemy army. They were still far away, so he had time to think. Yet thinking might be dangerous, for he needed to keep his thoughts focused and away from Amarië. Tonight he needed to be strong, stronger than he had ever been in his life.  
  
Lightning flashed across the sky, brightening the landscape with its sharp illumination. Thunder followed. The minutes passed, and it began to rain. Haldir could feel the tension all around him, even from the Elves, but for himself, he adhered to the controlled calm that he always maintained in battle.  
  
And then the army came into view. It was huge, far larger than he had envisioned, despite Galadriel's warning. Isengard had belched forth its masses of stinking progeny. Ten thousand Uruk-hai, many carrying torches, stomped their feet in a thunderous noise intended to intimidate and to arouse their own blood lust.  
  
They spread out across the landscape before the fortress of Helm's Deep like the wings of a gigantic and monstrous black dragon.  
  
~*~  
  
[To be continued . . .] FEEDBACK ALWAYS APPRECIATED! If you like this story, please check out my other stories also. :) 


	17. Truth

**Part 16 – Truth**

Haldir stood at the wall, waiting for the battle to begin, rain running down his face, drops of water catching on his eyelashes and dripping off the tip of his nose. He did not like the rain, but acknowledged that it might give those in the fortress an advantage against the lumbering enemy. Any advantage would be welcome.

_"A Eruchîn, ú-dano i faelas a hyn an uben tanatha le faelas!"_

Aragorn shouted instructions, telling the elves to show no mercy for they would receive none, an unnecessary command since this was something the elves knew. On the other hand, he silently commended Aragorn for his ability to lead and to motivate. The man would make a worthy king someday, when all this was over and the battle was won.

Despite the immense size of the dark army, Haldir held to the certainty that on this night the Elves and Men would prevail. The fortress was sturdy, and the Uruk-hai, though cruel and strong, moved by brutal instinct rather than intelligent thought. They were vulnerable, their armor weak at the neck and beneath the arm. It would be a vicious fight, but, one by one, they would be cut down as they came with their ladders, clambering like huge malformed spiders over the sides of the wall. His jaw hardened with resolve. He would kill them all himself, if need be.

Like the elves around him, he held his bow in his hand, an arrow nocked and the string pulled back, waiting for the order to strike. Then someone—a human no doubt—let loose an arrow before the command was given, and an Uruk-hai fell dead. The thunderous foot-stomping ceased and for a moment the legions of Uruk-hai were still.

And then they came.

xxx

Amarië slept, lightly and fitfully, fully dressed and ready as Galadriel had instructed. She was prepared, but for what she did not know.

She dreamed of Haldir, of lying in his arms in the woods on a mantle of blue and gold, surrounded by starlike flowers that held a curious, gleaming light in their centers. He was making sweet love to her while all around them the forest sang, its music gentle, filled with peace and harmony. _Seven,_ he whispered as he sprinkled kisses across her face.

_Seven?_ she asked him with a laugh. Seven what?

He smiled down at her. Answers come when the seeker is ready. And he pressed his lips to hers . . .

She woke with a start and sat up, blinking as she instinctively looked around the small, dark room. Then memory returned, and she lay back with a dejected sigh. Of course he was not here; he was far away. But he was still alive. She could feel him.

Ennis, too, was gone. They had not had many minutes together, for he had wanted to see Lornarië, and then it had been time for him to leave. Why it was necessary for him to go to Helm's Deep, Amarië did not understand, but the Lady had said he must and so he would. That he did not question this seemed odd to her, but she had not told him so. Secretly, she found Ennis much changed. Was it because of Lornarië? Or was it Galadriel's influence?

After he had left, she and Lornarië had spoken for a long time. Much had been said, but what most remained in Amarië's mind was the look on the elf-maiden's face when she had said, with a quivery little break in her voice, "Ennis kissed my hand before he left! No one has ever kissed my hand before, at least not in such a way! Not even Ferodir."

Amarië's thoughts returned to her dream, but it only increased her uneasiness, the tension that kept her whole body as taut as a stretched bowstring.

Tonight would be the night, the Lady had said. She must be ready.

xxx

Haldir spun and whirled, his sword flashing as he slaughtered creature after creature, scarcely pausing as he stepped over bodies and on stone made slippery with blood. Despite his belief in eventual victory, Uruk-hai seemed to be everywhere; he could not recall ever fighting in a battle where the elves had been so badly outnumbered. He knew that a few elves had been struck down, but knew not if they were slain or wounded. From the corner of his eye, he could see Orophin, and once he had caught a glimpse of Rúmil, so at least he knew they still lived. As for Ferodir, he had not seen him since the battle began.

_"Togo hon dad, Legolas! Dago hon!"_ yelled Aragorn.

Haldir wondered what Legolas was supposed to bring down, but had no time to look. His blade slid deep into yet another Uruk-hai, his damp hair swinging as he swiveled just in time to block another's swing. And then there came a colossal roar the likes of which he had never heard in his life. For a moment it seemed to him that time stood still as a sizable section of the great wall of the fortress flew apart in a fiery eruption, breaking into chunks of all sizes that went hurtling high in the air along with the bodies of elves, men and Uruk-hai. An instant later, boulder-sized pieces of the wall crashed to the ground in front of the fortress, crushing many Uruk-hai beneath them.

It was unbelievable, and yet it had happened, and Haldir knew that it could spell disaster. By some foul means, the impenetrable had been penetrated.

The fortress had been breached.

xxx

Somehow she must have gone back to sleep, but Amarië woke instantly when Lornarië's hand touched her shoulder. "The Lady says you must come at once. She and Lord Celeborn await you at the mirror. She says it is time."

Amarië sprang from her bed and rushed from the room. Leaving Lornarië behind, she took the steps two at a time, hurrying through the city to the southeast corner where Galadriel's mirror sat. There, she found the Lord and Lady of Lórien standing before the silver basin already filled with water from the stream. Both were staring into it, but when Amarië arrived, they turned to her.

"The battle progresses," Galadriel said gravely. "Things do not go well, but there is still hope."

Amarië hurried forward, her emotions almost out of control. "I should have been here sooner."

"You needed rest," Celeborn informed her, not without gentleness. "You will need great strength for that which you must do. We are here to give you some of ours."

"What must I do?" Icy fear twisted inside Amarië as she peered warily into the water. But she saw nothing, not even her own reflection.

"You will know." The Lady's sapphire eyes probed hers. "Take our hands, child. For you to draw strength from us, we must complete a circle, then you may look into the mirror. Be not afraid. Do what you must, but do not linger. That is your only danger."

Obeying, Amarië accepted the Lord and Lady's hands, then gazed down into the still water. Gradually, the hazy outline of a great fortress appeared. She could see bodies, some lying still, some upright and swinging weapons, but everything was indistinct. Her eyes began to burn, grow heavy. She blinked, and blinked again, but it was no use. She could not keep her eyes open, yet for some reason this did not worry her.

The hands grasping hers seemed to meld with her own, become a part of her, as though she and Galadriel and Celeborn were all one being. Her body trembled, vibrating as though seized with a great power. Her eyes remained closed, but she could see straight through her eyelids. A river of brilliant, flashing lights streamed past. She heard a curious rushing sound, like soft wind whispering through a waterfall of pearls. Swirling colors drew her, lifting her up, and she clearly saw a glowing hand reach out. Her father's hand.

_Come, my daughter. It is time._

She could feel her father take her hand, yet at the same time, she knew she was still holding on to Galadriel and Celeborn. Her father's sweet, familiar scent filled her head, the slide of his silken hair soft against her arm. His smile warmed and reassured her.

_What must I do?_ she asked, calmed by her father's presence.

_You know what to do. Light has more power than darkness._

Yes, Adar, this I know.  
  
She recognized the place where he was taking her, where they had come so many times before. As always, she gazed around, fascinated by the spinning lights, the small eddies of gold and silver, the sparkle of sun and stars dancing gleefully in ever-shifting threads, shimmering like ithildin under a full moon.

_Your love for him shines like a bold beacon in the night. It holds untold power. This I have taught you. Do you remember? Do you remember the lessons? Fëa to fëa, hroa to hroa, you are bound to each other. This makes it possible for you to defend him.  
_  
Far below, she could see herself, still standing with closed eyes beside the mirror. She could feel the sizzle of Celeborn and Galadriel's power mingling with her own, adding to the strength and potency of her spirit.  
_  
I am the Shield,_ she said with growing wonder. _This is what you taught me._

They flew upward. It seemed so easy, so effortless, to float within the rainbows, inhaling heady colors and rich sensations. They were soaring high, high above the earth, higher than they had ever gone before. Far below, she could see gleaming rivers and deep forests, snow-capped mountains and vast oceans. Yet she could also see, quite distinctly, two men on horseback, riding fast over the plains.

She pointed. _Look. That is Ennis._

_His time has come at last,_ her father agreed. _Such joy I feel for him._

They were descending. They passed Ennis, and in what seemed like only seconds, approached the fortress of Helm's Deep. She recognized it at once, knew it from the twisted shadows, the black malice spewing over the rubble. Uruk-hai, thousands of them, crawled across the landscape and within the fortress, the iron blades of their weapons like jagged dragon's teeth set in rotting flesh. Fire and blood, death and destruction, spawned from the gaping, putrid mouth of Isengard.

And he whom she loved so much was lost in it.

_You know what to do? You must wait for him to call to you. His call completes the circle. Remember, I cannot go with you. I cannot help._

I remember.

Do not tarry long! Be strong. He will call to you. You must be ready. Do what you must do and then come back!  
  
He released her hand, and she was on her own.

xxx

Ennis signaled to Angus, and they both reined in their sweating horses. "Do you notice anything strange?"

"Strange?" Angus looked about them with a frown. "Aye, the terrain seems different here."

"Look around. Did we not leave Fangorn behind us but a short while ago?"

Angus swiveled, and his eyes widened. "Aye, we did. Where is it?" Under the light of the moon, they should have been able to see it.

"That is my question," Ennis said evenly. "Is this wizardry at work? Or Elvish magic?"

The other man shook his head, and looked a little frightened. "I know not."

Ennis surveyed their surroundings in silence, then stiffened as he suddenly heard a voice speak inside his head. Do not stop, it commanded with great authority. I have given you aid. You are now much closer to your destination than you were before. Go now. Ride swiftly. You have a task.

Ennis drew a breath, unsure what to tell Angus. "I feel we should continue," he said finally, "though I cannot explain my reason."

Angus gave him an odd look, but did not argue. Ennis's sentient mount gave a snort that sounded vaguely approving. Without an order, the horse started forward, and the other followed, leaving Ennis to ponder the meaning of this extraordinary event.

xxx

She could see Haldir clearly now. Uruk-hai surrounded him; they were swarming like roaches, their foul faces mindless with their lust to destroy life.

_"Nan barad! Nan barad!"_

She heard the command to retreat being shouted and passed on to others. Haldir paused for a second, no more than a breath, to glance sideways, then returned his gaze to the monstrous sea swirling around him. She ached to help, but could do nothing but watch in helpless frustration. She would have liked to look for Rúmil and Orophin and Ferodir, but she dared not take her attention away from Haldir. She must be ready.

_"Haldir, nan barad!"_ A man's voice rose over the clanging of metal.

She saw Haldir nod his understanding and repeat it to those nearby. And then the moment came, the one for which she had been waiting. She saw it rising, the weapon with the hooked end, lifted by the hand of an Uruk-hai. She recognized it at once, recalled its hideous shape from her dreams. It was the tooth.

_The bladed tooth._

Gripped with horror, she watched the weapon flash down and strike him, saw his stunned look as he took in what had happened. He clutched his arm against his side, gasping, his face betraying his astonishment and disbelief. Then her blood froze as she saw another Uruk-hai rise up behind him. This one held an axe.

_Haldir!_ She tried to shout a warning, but he did not seem to hear, nor did he see the monster raise the weapon. His pain and shock distracted him, prevented him from sensing what he should have sensed. Why did he not move? Why did he not turn or look around? _Call to me!_ her heart screamed. _Hear me!_

_Amarië, where are you?_

It whispered past her like the flutter of a sparrow's wings. In the last possible instant, his soul had answered, reaching out to complete the circle.

She had practiced countless times and knew exactly what to do. She flew to him, cleaving her essence to his back, forming herself into a Shield created by the power and strength and purity of Love. The axe was a weapon of darkness, forged by evil, wielded by hatred. Love was a weapon of the Light. And Light had more power than darkness.

The axe swung down. She was stronger now than she had ever been before. The binding of their hroas grounded and anchored her, giving her extra solidity with which to soften the horrendous force of the blow. When the impact came, she absorbed much of it. She felt the axe slow down as it sliced through her, striking his armor, splitting it, sinking into his flesh. He was wounded, but she felt certain she had saved him, for the axe had not gone deep, nor had it hit his spine.

_Meleth nín,_ she murmured tenderly. _I am here._

He was falling to the ground, gazing at those around him who had already fallen. Sweat beaded his brow, but somehow she knew that he had heard her even though he could not answer. He was confused, dazed, losing awareness, losing blood. A man was running toward him, wrapping his arms around him. Whoever this man was, he seemed to care about Haldir. Then the man dropped him, clearly thinking him dead and needing to return to battle. He left Haldir lying with the other bodies. In fact, she acknowledged that he did indeed look dead. But he was not! He had put himself into a healing trance . . . hadn't he? She tried to feel his life force using their connection, but she lacked the strength.

Where was Ferodir?

Much weakened, she glanced around, moving away from Haldir. She had no power to carry him to safety; someone else must do that. She pushed forward wearily, gazing around at the elves within her view. She saw Rúmil lying on the ground, wounded but not dead. Further on, Orophin still fought, though blood flowed from a huge gash on his jaw. At last, she found Ferodir, propped against the exterior wall of the fortress. He had fallen, and his leg was broken, but he held his sword in front of him, still well able to protect himself from any who might approach.

_Ferodir,_ she whispered into his mind. _Can you hear me?_

She saw his blue eyes widen. "Amarië?" he said incredulously.

_Haldir lies among the dead, but still he lives. Do you hear? You must help him!  
_  
Ferodir smiled weakly, his intense pain visible. "What, my sweet, no concern for me? Here I sit in the middle of a battle with a broken leg, and all you can think about is the March Warden! I cannot move, my dear."

Amarië hesitated, gazing at Ferodir, then made a decision. She gathered herself into a small ball of Light and enfolded herself around the area of his injury. She heard him gasp, but she did not think it was with pain; then she released him and drew away.

She was far, far weaker now. She had tarried too long, given up too much of her energy. She had not the strength to find her way back, or even to see where she was. Everything was fading, becoming indistinct. She drifted, unable to see Ferodir any more, or even the fortress. It was growing dark. Very dark. Fear gnawed at her heart.

Where was she? She was sliding, losing her purchase. To the east, she could see the great eye of Sauron, huge, lidless, malevolent. Furious.

And she knew that she was lost. Lost in the horrifying darkness of the void.

xxx

Ennis and Angus reached Helm's Deep just in time to see the charge of the Rohirrim down the hill. They had not discussed the fact that they should not have arrived when they did, that it was impossible for them to have gone so far so fast. Some things were better left unspoken. Ennis had spent the remaining hours of travel mulling it over, and had decided to discuss it with the Lady when he returned to Lothlórien. And he fully intended to return.

Later, when it was over, he would remember the battle but hazily, the clashes of swords, the thunder of hooves, the sight of the one known as Gandalf the White mounted upon Shadowfax, the greatest of the wild horses known as the Mearas. Victory was at hand, but as the fighting progressed, Ennis found himself becoming more and more concerned about the welfare of the elves. He almost felt as though they were his people. And for some unknown reason, he believed that the task he had been assigned had much to do with them.

The wounded were being moved into the caves, where there were women with healing skills who could tend to them. Ennis searched among the bodies, and to his surprise came across Ferodir almost immediately. He dismounted his horse and went to him at once, wishing he spoke Elvish. He had learned a few words during his stay in Lórien, but nothing that would avail him now.

"Haldir?" he asked, surveying the dark-haired elf.

Ferodir held out his hand. "Help me. We will find him." He displayed no surprise at Ennis' unexpected appearance.

"You speak my tongue?" Ennis asked in amazement.

"A little," Ferodir admitted with a crooked smile. "Not much."

Despite his injury, Ferodir did not seem to be in pain, which Ennis found rather peculiar. Directing the horse to follow, he supported Ferodir, and they moved along, searching for survivors as they worked their way through the rubble. The bodies of elves lay everywhere, but according to Ferodir, many were not dead. Again and again, he pointed to one, indicating that the elf lived, and Ennis would in turn summon someone nearby to carry the elf into the caves. They found Rúmil lying behind the upper wall, a great split in his armor. He was seriously wounded, but breathing and in a healing trance. A minute later, they found Orophin, also wounded, also alive. His eyes were open and he was conscious.

Ennis discovered that he no longer needed Ferodir to tell him which elves were alive. He was starting to sense them. "That one lives," he said, pointing to an Imladris elf who appeared quite dead.

Ferodir nodded, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he gazed at Ennis. "Yes," he agreed, but did not ask how Ennis knew.

Ennis had no explanation, nor did it seem to be important to seek one at this moment. Finding Haldir had become of paramount importance in his mind. With the passing of every minute, he grew more and more anxious to find the elf who was his sister's husband.

Where was the March Warden?

xxx

Amarië looked around wildly. She knew not what to do. Had she saved Haldir only to lose herself forever?

_Adar? Where are you? Adar!_

She had been calling and calling, but if her father had answered, she could not hear his voice. Panic clutched at her heart. She must remember her lessons! _Ada?_ she almost sobbed.

_Remember the Light._

Who had spoken these words? Not her father. A majestic male voice. One with great authority.

Where was the Light?

Where had it always been? She looked up.

Stars. Multitudes of them.

And at once the darkness receded.

Incredibly, she realized she was hearing the music of the Ainur, the Holy Ones, the first offspring of the One, the primordial spirits who, with Ilúvatar, had created the world. Echoes of those first haunting songs still resounded throughout the very fabric of the universe, and she could hear it, not with her ears but with her essence. All life pulsed with it, every tree, every rock, every creature.

She saw stars in the sky, though it was not the night sky, but another kind of sky. 

Not a sky of darkness, but one of Light, filled with the power and might of the One, the Creator known as Eru, Ilúvatar, the Father of All. Each glittering star was an individual soul, its radiance proclaiming its sheer, boundless joy in its own existence. Each stood in its rightful place amid the vast firmament of All That Is.

She focused on the closest stars, those of the Elves, whose immortal souls were bound to Arda. They were scattered, grouped in clusters, bonded by common purpose and culture. They were in Lothlórien, Imladris, Mirkwood, and other places unknown to her. Some were in Valinor, a few were on ships sailing across the sea. Some belonged to those residing peacefully in Mandos. And some were here, at Helm's Deep.

Some glowed red, and, without knowing how, she knew these belonged to the empaths and seers, those whom the Valar had gifted with special abilities. Others, not many, glowed with a soft blue light, but she knew not what that color meant. Many stood in pairs, as though mated. And there were some, not many, who stood even closer, their light reaching out to each other as though they were connected in some extraordinary way.

Where did her star belong? How was she to tell where her place was when there were so many? Could she find her way back?

_I am ready,_ she cried. _Ready for answers!_

_Remember the Light. Proclaim the Truth of Who You Are._

I Am, she whispered. _I am part of the Light. Since the dawn of time, I have freely chosen this. I belong in the Sky with the others. With he who is a part of me.  
_  
_Very good,_ said the majestic voice. It sounded slightly amused. _You are starting to remember._

_Remember what?_ She looked around for the source of the voice, which seemed to come from all directions.

"Child, I am here."

She spun around and saw him—magnificent, tall, dazzling and vibrant, the greatest of the Valar. Manwë, King of Arda, Lord of the West.

She fell upon her knees, knowing him at once. "My lord."

"Amarië. You have done well, but you lingered too long. You were warned of this."

"I know." She lowered her gaze.

"Do you remember? Are the memories returning?"

"Of the time before?" she asked, her voice almost a whisper. "A little, my lord."

"Look at me."

If she had thought Galadriel's eyes ancient and wise, they were nothing compared to those of the Vala, Manwë. He came close and rested his fingers on the center of her forehead, sending a wavelike tingle jolting throughout her essence.

"When you enter the world," he said, "you cannot carry with you all the knowledge you possess. But here, in this place, you are allowed to remember. You and he chose each other at the beginning, knowing and accepting the sacrifice you would have to make to attain that which you desired. Those who are mated, fëa to fëa, enjoy a unique oneness with each other, one that others can never know. But those who are so linked are also called to serve. And you have both borne the pain of your separation with strength and dignity."

"The years apart," she said slowly.

Manwë nodded gravely. "Millennia. Not many had the courage to make that choice, though that path offers rich lessons and rewards. He chose to take physical form and become a guardian of his people. You chose to stay behind so that you could watch over him and protect him until the right and perfect moment came for you to be born."

"But when that time came," she said, as the memories slowly gathered like a sunrise in her mind, "no more elves were being born."

"You knew this was a risk. So it was that Celebrenin's weakness served a great purpose, and for that reason, he was allowed to become your Teacher. Do you remember this?"

"Yes."

And she did remember. Her Truth was that that she was not young, but ancient. She remembered watching over Haldir, protecting him with the power of her love throughout all the long years of his life. She had whispered words of love to him in his dreams, achingly aware that come morning he would never remember. She had been privy to his most secret thoughts, and indeed had chosen her physical form knowing exactly what would be most pleasing to his eye. And she also knew that they had been apart far longer than most. Several times had she turned down opportunities to join him, giving up her place to another whose need was greater.

"Because of your birth, you have the choice of the half-elven. What do you choose?" Manwë sounded mischievous, for he well knew what her answer would be.

Amarië touched her heart. "For me, there is only one choice. I choose life with Haldir. I choose immortality."

"We expected nothing else," said a musical female voice. "Haldir has served his people well and deserves to live. If you chose mortality and died, he would despair and die of a broken heart, and that would not serve your purpose."

Amarië's gaze shifted, and she was again overwhelmed as a tall, breathtakingly beautiful female came into view. Without being told, she knew she was in the presence of Varda, known also as Elbereth, greatest of the Queens of the Valar. The Vala's waist-length hair shone like spun gold, her iridescent gown woven from the light of the stars that she had placed in the night sky, stars formed from the dew of the White Tree Telperion, the Silver Tree of Valinor.

"Many times have you saved his life without his knowledge. This was part of the plan. Yours and his. To be together, bound to each other in all possible ways, has long been the destiny you planned for yourselves. For your love for each other burns as bright and true as the fiery fruit of Laurelin, the Golden Tree of Valinor from whence the sun was wrought."

The lovely Vala smiled graciously. "You have each passed the test of separation and have earned your reward. Henceforth, you will be protected from all harm. Neither sword nor arrow nor axe shall slay you, for as long as you uphold that which is true and good, you and your mate will be shielded by the grace of Manwë and Elbereth. The link between you entitles you to that greatest of all gifts, everlasting passion for each other and for life. You will never tire of each other, nor will you ever feel the weariness of living that weighs so many others down."

Elbereth presented Amarië with her hand, upon which glowed several starlike rings filled with brilliant light. As Amarië pressed her lips to the Vala's fingers, Elbereth said, "You have one more duty to fulfill, though I do not think you will find it burdensome, for it was one of the reasons you chose this path. Haldir's accomplishments and selfless service, your sacrifices and courage, these grant you and your mate the right to be among the Life-Givers of the Slain."

"Six have chosen you," Manwë revealed. "The seventh is a gift."

"Beyond that, the choice is yours," Elbereth added, her voice so soft and kind it washed over Amarië like a warm summer rain.

Life-Givers of the Slain? The words echoed in Amarië's head. Oh, yes. Yes! Now she remembered that too, and the memory filled her with enormous, bursting joy. This was also their destiny, the destiny she and Haldir had freely chosen so very long ago!

But she still had to find her way back.

"There is one who can help you find your way," the King of Arda informed her. "The one who shares your blood can give you needed strength. Even now Ennis begins to embrace his heritage."

"Ennis is already here?" Amarië asked in confusion. "How can that be?"

Manwë inclined his head. "It is so because it is my will. He has a task to do, a lesson to learn, a friendship to tend." His hand swept out, directing her attention. "Look there, Amarië. Even now, it begins."

Once again she could see the fortress of Helm's Deep. She looked for Ennis, and soon found him, bending over the body of her beloved husband, lifting Haldir in his arms as gently as if he were a child. Ferodir stood nearby, leaning against a wall, an odd smile on his lips as he watched them.

Tears welled in Amarië's eyes. "He lives?" she asked tremulously.

"Yes, child, he lives. Many Children of Eru have passed from this world this day, but Haldir of Lórien is not one of them. That is not his destiny."

Suddenly, Amarië noticed the soft blue light surrounding Ennis. She turned back to Manwë, who smiled at her bewilderment.

"Look at yourself," he said.

She obeyed, and for the first time noticed that she also glowed blue.

What did it mean? Why did she not remember? Unless . . . ?

"Yes, Amarië. Blue is the color of the half-elven."

tbc

**Elvish Translations:**  
A Eruchîn, ú-dano i faelas a hyn an uben tanatha le faelas! - O Children-of-Eru, show them no mercy for you shall receive none.  
Togo hon dad, Legolas! Dago hon! - Bring him down, Legolas! Kill him!  
Nan barad! - To the Keep!  
Adar - father  
Ada - daddy


	18. Homecoming

**Part 17 – Homecoming**

Lothlórien. Home at last.

Ennis gazed ahead at the Golden Wood, still far in the distance, remembering the first time he had approached this place not so very long ago. Since then, his feelings had undergone an alteration more drastic than he would ever have thought possible.

He no longer disliked or feared the elves, nor did he fear or mistrust their magic. These elves were creatures of the light, honorable and worthy of respect. He admired them for their dignity, their integrity and loyalty to their people, even for their playfulness and love of life. No, they were not perfect beings; they could be thoughtless or rude, but he forgave them that. Yes, he had changed. He even had friends among the elves. Now, more than anything, he longed to live amid the beauty and warmth that was Lothlórien. And then, of course, there was Lornarië. How he longed to see her once more!

Ennis glanced around him with a sense of companionship for those with whom he traveled. The Rohirrim had given the elves a number of horses with which to transport their wounded to their homelands, as well as a Rohirrim escort who would ensure the safe return of the horses back to Rohan. Ennis had retained Galadriel's sentient horse, and for the first two days he and Haldir had shared the powerful steed. Still weak from his dual injuries, the Marchwarden had been oddly quiet, yet when he had spoken, he had been less reserved and more likable than ever before. Now Ennis walked beside the horse while Haldir rode with Ferodir, whose badly broken leg was in a splint. Orophin rode with Rúmil, whose wound had been grave enough to warrant some concern.

They had traveled slowly, caring for their wounded along the way while recovering their strength. Despite their losses, spirits were starting to rise, and an occasional laugh could be heard. Now that they had reached Lórien, it was time for the Imladris elves to bid farewell to their Lothlórien kin and continue on. Once more Ennis wished he could speak Elvish as he witnessed a number of farewells in this strange, attractive tongue. He had learned a few phrases, and he intended to learn more. He would have to if he was to stay with Lornarië.

One departing elf smiled and addressed a long sentence to Ennis.

Ennis nodded and replied in what little Elvish he knew, and the elf broke into laughter.

Beside him, he heard Haldir chuckle. "You just wished him good morning. What he said to you was 'may your days be green and golden.' Shall I tell him you wish him the same?"

Ennis grinned sheepishly. "Please do."

xxx

Amarië stood on a high flet at the edge of the border, her bow and quiver on her shoulder as she watched the caravan of elves approach. Even from half a league away she could see them, for since her meeting with the Valar, she had noticed that her eyesight was sharper and her hearing keener. According to Lord Celeborn, she now saw and heard with the senses of an elf; only the shape of her ears betrayed her human blood. Excitement coursed through her as she saw that Haldir was sitting upright and looking healthy. She could see Ennis too, and Haldir's brothers and Ferodir. Valar be praised, they had arrived safely!

For two days now she had taken her place on the Watch; she was the only female to come to the border, though there were many who waited anxiously for word of their loved one. Amarië knew that some of them would soon receive sorrowful news, but she did not know who, nor was it her place to tell them. That would be Haldir's difficult task.

Curbing the impulse to run to him, she stood patiently waiting as they traveled closer, the soft breeze ruffling her hair. She remembered much of what had happened to her and what she had seen at Helm's Deep, and was anxious to discuss it with Haldir and get his reaction. Yet she knew that parts of her experience had faded. For her, the first days after Helm's Deep had been spent recovering her strength. Galadriel and Celeborn had insisted; apparently they had feared for her life since she had been gone so long from her body. Indeed, she had been very weak. She recalled the first moment she had opened her eyes . . .

She had seen golden trees overhead, felt cool air, heard soft voices calling her name. Gradually, she had recognized the two faces. Galadriel and Celeborn leaned over her, their normally serene countenances creased with concern. Can you hear us, they had asked. It had seemed confusing at first. Why was she lying on the ground?

One minute she had been with Manwë and Elbereth, and the next in Lórien? No, wait. Ennis. She had gone to Ennis, watched him tending to Haldir with such caring and compassion. She had studied the blue glow surrounding him, noting that the blue had been finely edged with another color. Red? Or had she imagined that?

Then she had whispered to her brother, and although he had not looked up, his soul had answered. Golden sparks of pure light had flown from him to her, permeating her essence, gifting her with strength. She remembered the strange tingle, the burst of powerful energy that had infused her . . . and then what?

Rising. Everything falling away until her brother and Haldir and even the fortress had seemed tiny. A glowing hand seizing her arm, drawing her upward. Silver bells tinkling, far away, the sound drifting with the spiraling lights and dazzling colors.

_"You tarried too long! I feared for you!"_

_"I am sorry. I did what I had to do."_

My daughter, cormamin lindua ele lle. Her father was not angry; the words were spoken tenderly. _You did well. You have the heart of a warrior._

_Adar, Manwë came to me. And Elbereth._

Now you are immortal, as he is.

I can be with him always.

This is what you planned. I feel such joy for you and him.  
  
What then?

Their hands had parted, and she was hurtling, falling, spinning . . . and then she had opened her eyes and seen the Lord and Lady of Lórien.

"For hours you were gone," they told her. And after ascertaining that she was unharmed, they had also said, "Tell us what happened."

And she had told them everything before the memories slid away.

The elves were closer now. Amarië wondered whether Haldir would sense that she was here, so close to him. _Meleth, I am here._ She sent out the thought, watching to see if he received it. Joy leaped in her heart when she saw the way his head jerked in her direction, his eyes searching for her among the thick leaf-covered branches. But she knew she was well hidden.

_Where are you?_

Grinning, Amarië moved to the hole in the flet and quickly descended the hithlain rope ladder. She hurried to the edge of the wood, knowing that he saw her now, for he was nudging the horse to a faster pace, separating from the others. She knew also that he was not fully healed, but, oh, he looked so much better than she had expected!

She ran to him. He slid from the horse, and she saw Ferodir beaming at them from his perch.

And then she was in Haldir's arms, tears streaming down her cheeks as he hugged her close to him, murmuring soft Elvish endearments that she could barely take in. Both of them ignored the amused stares from the approaching elves and the Rohirrim escort.

Finally, and with gentleness, he pulled away, his dark brows lifted as his warm gaze ran over her. "Is this not my tunic you are wearing? Either that, or you have lost a great deal of weight."

"It is yours," she admitted, through her tears. "It smells like you. It was a way to keep you close."

He smoothed his hand over her hair, tucking a strand behind her ear as he smiled down at her. "I was not aware I had such a distinctive odor. Although at this moment, I am certain I do."

"You do need a bath." She caught his hand and kissed it, and held it against her cheek. "And I will see that you get one."

"I will need assistance," he murmured. "I am not quite myself yet."

"I need assistance too," Ferodir complained loudly. "I'm the one with the broken leg."

Haldir glanced up. "I am certain you will have all the assistance you need, my friend. But not from my wife. She will be very much occupied with caring for me."

"Ah, well, perhaps she will welcome me with a kiss."

Amarië sent Ferodir a smile, noting his slight pallor. "Of course I will," she said kindly. "When you are better, and on the cheek."

Ferodir laughed, and even Haldir smiled.

By this time the procession of elves and Rohirrim had caught up with them, and they headed into the Lothlórien Woods. Amarië walked alongside Haldir, then came to a sudden stop. He looked at her. "What is wrong, meleth?"

"Well, officially, I am on Watch," she said reluctantly. "I volunteered, and Lord Celeborn gave his permission. I cannot go with you."

Haldir's brows shot up. "Are you not forgetting something?"

"What is that?"

"I am Marchwarden, and can relieve you of the task. My elves already have their orders. Many are uninjured or are healed of their injuries, and are well able to resume their border duties. So you may come with me, wife. Lothlórien will be guarded, but not by you." As if recognizing the arrogance in his tone, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed the finger that held her binding ring. "And," he added, so softly only she could hear him, "I need you to be with me right now."

"I know," she whispered, "and I need you as well."

xxx

During the journey to the Lórien city, Amarië and Ennis made plans to speak together the next morning in private; this day he planned simply to bathe and rest and spend time with Lornarië. She also spoke with Orophin and Rúmil. Both were in good spirits, and though Rúmil's injury had been serious, it had been well tended by elven healers and he was already on the road to recovery.

Despite all they had been through, she heard Haldir's brothers joking softly to each other about Brianna, the pretty maiden who had inspired Rúmil's poems. Orophin wagered that she would be in Rúmil's arms by the end of the day, but Rúmil seemed uncertain. He thought it might happen within three days. He planned to look as pale and frail as possible to win her sympathy. He had also thought of another poem, and Orophin actually allowed him to recite it.

Galadriel and Celeborn met them at the gates, along with Lornarië and many others. Ennis strode straight to Lornarië; they embraced and left together immediately. Amarië knew that her brother intended to stay on at Caras Galadhon if the Lord and Lady permitted. He did not seem to have discovered yet that he was a half-elf, and she was at a loss as to how to tell him or whether she even should.

The Lord and Lady politely thanked the Rohirrim for their services to the Elves and offered them a respite from their travels, but the men from Rohan declined and left at once, leading their horses away with a single elf to guide their return journey to the border.

As for Haldir, he bowed before Galadriel and Celeborn, and proceeded to apprise them of the details and aftermath of the battle, though of course they knew a great deal already. He also had the unhappy duty of listing which elves had been slain. Then he, along with Galadriel and Celeborn, moved to speak to those who stood waiting, silent and anxious, for information about the lovers or mates that had not returned. Silent tears rolled down Amarië's cheeks while she waited some distance away, not wanting to intrude upon the grief of others. Haldir looked drained and pale and tired and very, very sad. It nearly broke her heart to see him so, and to know the deep sorrow he and the others were feeling.

At last that duty was discharged and he came back to her, holding out a hand. "Come," he said, his tone quiet. He said no more, and she understood.

Together, they slowly mounted the spiraling steps that led upward, their arms around each other's waists. They did not speak, and at length they reached the talan which they now shared.

"Your bath has been prepared," Amarië told him as he closed the door. "All you need do is heat it." She turned to look at him, noting the way his gaze had fixed on her, almost drinking her in, as though he had thought never to see her again. She could feel the love flowing between them. "I am so glad you are back," she added, blinking away a tear.

"I know." He came to her and pulled her close, leaning his cheek against her hair. "I have no words right now, Amarië. I only want to bathe and take you in my arms. We will talk later."

She helped him to remove what armor he still wore, followed by his tunics, boots and leggings. When he was naked, she walked around him, studying the great gashes in his back and side, noting that they were closed and well-sealed, but by no means fully healed. Frowning, she traced her fingers around them, very lightly, as though her touch might give him further healing. "Oh, Haldir," she whispered, remembering how close she had come to losing him. "You are so brave, so valiant. And look what they did to you."

"It is nothing," he said, brushing this aside. "I lost a little blood, that is all."

"Haldir," she said steadily, "that is untrue. You know I was there."

He rubbed a hand over his jaw and met her gaze. "Yes," he admitted with a sigh. "And we will speak of it later. Right now I am weary and I reek."

"You do not reek. Clearly you have washed or been washed at some point. But I admit a good scrubbing would not be amiss. Warm the water, and I will tend to you myself."

Ah, this was what he had been dreaming of for days! Haldir smiled and did as he was told, using a common Elvish spell to bring the water's temperature to a comfortable level. He then climbed in and sat down, and heaved a great, contented sigh. The water came up to his waist, and his knees were bent, his hair draping over the edge.

He would not think about the battle or the loss of elven lives. Death was a risk they all took willingly, part of the great cycle of life. Elves could be reborn; they all knew this. Yet somehow, at this moment, that thought brought him small comfort. In time, he knew his sorrow would pass. Amarië was here, he would focus on her.

For the next little while, she lavished him with her attentions, soaping his back, arms and chest, smoothing her hands over his shoulders, massaging the aching muscles in his neck. By the Valar, it felt wonderful! How he loved the feel of her hands sliding over him; already the familiar burn was growing inside him and he did not fight it. One at a time, she bade him to lift a leg while she lathered him, and he did so, lazily watching the glide of her hands over his thighs, knees, calves, and feet. How wonderful to have a wife! And how wonderful to be alive to enjoy it! For so long he had dreamed of this, and now it was a reality. A wife, a life-mate! How long would it be before he grew used to the idea?

Suddenly he noticed that she had paused in her ministrations and was watching him with a tiny curve to her lips. "What of the rest of me?" he asked casually. Surely she had not missed the physical manifestation of his enjoyment in the proceedings.

"Do you refer to your hair?" she asked, a twinkle in her eyes.

His mouth twitched with amusement. He loved it when she teased him like this; she was so lovely, so alluring, so playful and warm.

"Nay," he said, "my hair can wait. My other parts are not so patient."

She sat back on her heels, smiling provocatively as she reached again for the soap. "If I command Lothlórien's Marchwarden to his knees, will he obey me, do you think?"

"I think on this occasion he could be persuaded." Haldir rose, the water sluicing off him as he gripped the sides of the tub to steady himself. He was fully aroused, rock hard and ready, but she took her time, showering his engorged shaft and nether areas with her careful, skillful attention. His muscles quivered and his breath grew ragged as his pleasure began to build. It felt so good, so good . . . too good.

"Enough!" he said, his words bursting out on a sharp exhale. "I will rinse and dry myself. And you, meleth, had better remove that tunic, which happens to be one of my favorites. Look how wet you have gotten it."

Amarië smiled and handed him a drying cloth as he stepped from the tub. "Could we not go slowly? We are in no hurry, are we?"

He cupped her jaw with his hand. "I am not, but my body is." He took a deep breath. "At present, I need to forget what happened. I need you, Amarië. I need you in every way you can imagine. But just at this moment, what I need most is to bury myself in your sweetness. That is a kind of healing that only you can give me."

She leaned up to kiss him on the lips, her blue eyes filled with such love for him that his heart turned over. "Of course I understand, and I am here for you. I will always be here for you. Always."

xxx

Lornarië gazed at Ennis, studying the way his cropped black curls wrapped around his small, perfect ears. She loved him. He was a mortal, but she did not care. Would she give up her immortality to be with him? He had not asked it of her, but if he did? What would she say? And why did she love him so much? Perhaps because he took her seriously; no one had really done that before. When he looked at her, he truly saw her, not as a potential lover, but as a living being with feelings and a soul. Yes, she loved him. Her whole body ached with love for him.

She had made sure he bathed, and they had kissed and intended to make love. He had lain down on the bed, closed his eyes, and suddenly fallen asleep. Was he so very tired? Or was something else at work here? She wondered whether she should go and seek Galadriel's counsel, but then decided to wait awhile and see.

It was while he slept that the song started, the lament for those who had been slain in battle. Lornarië's heart grew heavy as she listened to the singing of her sisters and brethren. Laments always made her sad, not only for those who suffered, but for herself. For so long she had staved off the loneliness with a string of lovers; now, for the first time, she realized what it might mean to have a mate. If only . . .

When Ennis woke, it was so sudden that he startled her. His whole body jerked, and his blue eyes flew open. He looked pale, far paler than when he had arrived.

Concerned, she leaped from her chair. "Ennis, what is it? What is wrong?"

He fixed his gaze on her, an odd kind of wonder dawning in his eyes. Then he sat up quickly and reached for her, holding her face between his hands. "Lornarië! By the Valar, I have had such a dream!"

"A dream," she echoed with bemusement. "What kind of a dream?"

"A dream that was not a dream. It seemed so real!" Ennis sounded excited. "I do not believe it. I cannot. But . . . I must speak to your Lady at once."

Lornarië blinked. "Ennis, the hour is late. I know not if she will be willing to see you now. What is this about?"

He rose to his feet and began to dress, then swiveled to face her, his expression fierce. "If my dream is true, then you and I may have a future. But first, tell me . . . "

"Tell you what?"

"Tell me about elven binding. What is involved?"

"Why do you ask?" she said carefully. Her heart began to thud harder.

"I ask because I want to know." He caught up both of her hands in his and held them firmly with his own. His eyes searched hers. "If I was an elf, or even a half-elf, would you bind yourself to me? Or at least consider it?"

That was the moment she knew. "Ennis," she whispered. "I would bind myself to you whatever you are. I love you. I would give up my immortality to be with you. But you are mortal . . . are you not?"

"I know not what I am, my love. That is why I must see the Lady Galadriel."

Hope surged in Lornarië's heart, a hope for a future for her and Ennis. "Let us go to her then," she said. "Who knows? Perhaps she will even be expecting us."

xxx

"He's going to live," Orophin told Brianna as they walked along. "Rúmil can behave foolishly, I know, but he is a great warrior. He killed more of the enemy than anyone else except, perhaps, Haldir. And myself," he added quickly. "He was one against many, but they all died. Only the last landed a blow, and that was sheer luck. Still, it is a wonder he is alive. It was a terrible wound."

Brianna's lovely eyes filled with tears. "Oh, poor Rúmil! All these months I have been ignoring him. Had I known that he was going into battle, and perhaps to his death—!"

"Well, he did not die," Orophin soothed. "And there is a very good chance that he will fully recover from his injuries. Lord Celeborn treated him earlier, and you know how skilled his healing powers are."

"You are certain it will be safe for me to visit him?" She clasped her hands together at her shapely bosom. "It will not overtire him?"

"It is quite safe," Orophin assured her. "Lord Celeborn said it would be beneficial for him to have a visitor. It will raise his spirits. He is feeling very low. Very, very low."

"All that death," Brianna agreed with a shudder. "Oh, he is so brave!"

Orophin suppressed his desire to point out that he was equally brave. "Aye, Rúmil is extremely brave. I expect there are a great many Lórien maidens eager to comfort him," he added craftily. He saw her pretty mouth set with determination, and knew she would be sure that they did not. Brianna intended to be Rúmil's only female comforter.

They had reached the door to Rúmil's rooms; Orophin knocked gently, then eased open the door. "Rúmil, you have a visitor. Would you be willing to see Brianna?"

"Brianna?" came a weak, pathetic voice. "Of course, brother. Did you warn her? I am not at my best at the moment."

Brianna practically shoved Orophin aside in her anxiety to reach Rúmil's side. "Rúmil, you poor, sweet elf! Orophin told me how brave and noble you were!"

"Well," Orophin remarked, "I will leave you two alone. I see no reason for me to stay." He peeked inside. "No, obviously not. Er, very well, then. I'll be off."

Pleased that he had won yet another wager, he eased the door shut and strode off, listening to the lament of the elves floating on the evening breeze. The song both enhanced and eased his sorrow. He had not lied when he said that Rúmil felt low. They all did. And each of them was coping with it in whatever way worked. He, for instance, was going to look for Cicely. She was the most comforting, restful female he knew, and she would have healing ointments for his jaw. He rather thought he might be in love with Cicely.

xxx

Ferodir lounged back against a mountain of pillows, wallowing in the attentions of three beautiful Lórien ladies. They were all friends of his, all his lovers, and he adored each of them. And they adored him. It was a pleasing arrangement, one that suited him exactly. Unlike Haldir, he had no need of a wife. He was perfectly happy as he was.

He smiled at the nearest maiden, who had perched on the edge of his bed to feed him strawberries. "That's enough, my dear. Why don't you eat the rest yourself?"

She giggled and set the bowl aside, then leaned down to give him a kiss. Another sweet maiden was tickling the toes of his broken leg, while a third curled next to his head, combing the tangles from his freshly washed hair. Who could ask for anything better than this? If one maiden could make him forget the horrors of the battle, then surely three was better?

Yet, despite the feminine trio, his mind kept returning to the battle. Amarië had been there. He had heard her speak to him in his mind. How? And what had she done to take away his pain? It had felt like a heated blanket wrapped around his leg, drawing out the anguish that had beset him. The pain had not returned until much later, when the battle was over, and by then there were elves with healing skills to help him deal with it.

Sooner or later he would discover the answer to the mystery. Meanwhile, he would continue to enjoy his popularity with the Lothlórien female population. He doubted there would ever be a maiden who would so interest him that he would want to devote himself to her and her alone.

However, by the Valar, if she did exist, let her come soon! Because he was getting very tired of waiting.

xxx

Galadriel agreed to see Ennis, but he was told to enter alone. Ennis kissed Lornarië, then turned to face the Lady's sentinels, who stepped aside and allowed him to pass. Inside the interior of her home, the Lady of Light greeted him from a comfortable chair near a westward-facing window and bade him to sit in the adjacent chair. Feeling a bit nervous, Ennis did as he was told and waited for her to speak, trying not to flinch beneath the power of her disconcerting gaze.

"The dreams have started," she stated. "And you are confused."

"Yes." He leaned forward in his eagerness. "Can you tell me what they mean? Only this night, I dreamed I was . . . " He stopped, wondering if she would think him presumptuous, and half afraid she would laugh.

"A half-elf," she finished. "It is true, Ennis. I did not see it until the day you led your people away, which means I was not meant to see it. All that took place on that day was meant to be. Those who died that day gave their lives to protect Lothlórien. It was Man's gift to us, an exchange for the lives of the elves lost at Helm's Deep. You were meant to lead them that day, just as you were meant to return to Lórien. You are indeed Peredhel. Your father was an elf."

Ennis struggled to absorb all this. "But how could it be true? And how could I not know? Amarië knew who she was!"

"She knew because from the time she was an infant, her mother told her it was so. Your sister accepted her Elvish heritage without question, and therefore was able to embrace it much more easily. Your mother did not tell you because she did not know."

"She did not know?" Ennis stared. "How could that be? Who is my father?"

Galadriel smiled. "You and Amarië share the same father."

"But he was dead by then!"

"He was sent back. For one night it was allowed, but the memory was taken from her afterward. It was thought to be too cruel otherwise."

"Why, milady?" Ennis shook his head in confusion. "Why was he sent back?"

The Lady reached out and laid her hand on his. "To father you, Ennis. Like your sister, you were destined to be born an elf. The time had come, but no more elves were being born. For that reason, you agreed to come into the world as a half-elf. The Valar decided that Celebrenin would serve the purpose, thereby mitigating his sins against your mother. It was an act of atonement as well as love."

"I see," he said slowly. "So when I dreamed of Manwë tonight, it was real?"

"Yes, Ennis. It was real. He offered you the choice?"

"Yes. I chose to be immortal. It seemed so logical and easy and obvious when I stood before him. I recognized his voice at once."

"And are you happy with your choice?" the Lady asked, her brows raised slightly.

"Yes, Lornarië and I . . ." He blushed, and she looked amused.

"Lornarië has waited long years for you, Ennis. We will speak more of this another day. Go to her now." She watched him rise to his feet. "Oh, and Ennis?"

He bowed. "Yes, milady?"

"The ability to make powerful magic runs strong in you. You must accept that. All your life you have scorned it, but it is part of you. The task assigned you at Helm's Deep had as much to do with awakening your gift as it had to do with saving elves. There is much for you to do in this world before you go to Valinor."

Bemused, Ennis took his leave and headed straight for Lornarië, who had been waiting patiently outside. He set his hands upon her shoulders, squeezing lightly as he gazed into her eyes. "I am a half-elf! Galadriel has confirmed it! My father was Lord Celeborn's son!"

"Oh, Ennis!" Lornarië threw herself into the cradle of his arms, hugging him as tightly as he was hugging her. "Oh, my love, I am so happy!"

Despite the presence of Galadriel's sentinels, who were watching them with open curiosity and amusement, Ennis kissed her hard and passionately, a lengthy kiss that she returned with equal fervor.

At last their mouths parted, and he rested his chin against her forehead as he held her close. "So," he murmured, "tell me now about how this elven binding works."

Lornarië smothered a laugh and reached up to touch his rounded ear. "I will do better than that. I will show you."

xxx

Haldir lay on his stomach on the bed with Amarië astride his hips, massaging and kneading the tense muscles of his back. Their lovemaking had been swift and fiery, for he had spoken truly when he said he needed her. After that, he had kissed her, slow, deliberate, shivery kisses that trailed all over her body, kisses that made her feel better than she had ever felt before, even with him, for at last she felt completely safe. He had gone into the worst of battles and come out of it alive. Her dreams would haunt her no more. And they were now under the protection of the two mightiest Valar.

"Lower," he grunted. "Ah, that is perfect."

"You must be feeling a great deal better by now," she remarked, savoring the feel of the smooth skin and powerful muscles of his broad back.

"Indeed." She could see him smile. "I could stay like this forever."

"Well, eventually it is going to be my turn," she pointed out.

He chuckled softly. "You just had your turn."

"That was not a massage."

"It was better than a massage. It was the Marchwarden's specialty."

She moved off of him and lightly smacked his backside. "Are you relaxed enough to talk?"

He rolled onto his back and grabbed her, pulling her down on top of him. His hands settled on her hips, and she rose up on her elbows so they were nose to nose.

"Aye," he said, "I'm ready to listen, if that is your meaning. I know you want to tell me how it was that you were there."

Amarië related as much as she recalled from her experience at Helm's Deep, of how she had come to be there, of flying through the air, of seeing Ennis and Angus. She told him also of how she had seen the axe strike him, and formed herself into a Shield.

"I felt you," he admitted, his tone pensive and filled with awe. "Even through the armor, I knew you were there. But I could not believe it."

"I was meant to be there, just as I told you. Only not the way I thought."

Then she told him how she had seen his brothers and searched for Ferodir, and how she had tried to take away Ferodir's pain, and almost been lost in the void. And then came the hardest part, the part that was most difficult to remember.

"It is hazy now. I saw stars and knew them to be souls. I heard music, but I cannot now remember what it sounded like." She traced a finger along his shoulder as she strained to recall the details. "I met Manwë and Elbereth. They told me many things." To the best of her ability, she tried to explain all that they had said, and how she and Haldir were both under their protection. Then she told him of Ennis, and of the blue glow and its meaning, and how her brother had helped her to return.

"And you and I are to be Life-Givers of the Slain," she finished. "I remember that most clearly. Six have chosen us, the seventh is a gift. Do you understand what that means?"

"Aye," Haldir said slowly, his eyes unfocused as though he, too, was trying to remember. "The slain who wait in the Halls of Mandos. Those ready to be reborn. So we have some children to create, eh?"

"Quite a few," she agreed. "But I do not think we need to start immediately."

He gave her a speculative look. "Probably not. We could even wait until we go to Valinor. What does 'the seventh is a gift' mean to you?"

She bit her lip. "I know not, but I could guess."

"What is your guess?"

"My father?" She searched his eyes for his reaction. "Do you think it is possible?"

He smiled and brushed a strand of her hair away from her cheek. "I think it is quite possible. Galadriel might know, but whether she will tell us, that is another matter."

"Oh, and Elbereth said something else. She said, beyond that, it is our choice. I think she meant we could choose whether or not to have more than seven children."

"Well, I'm glad of that! Seven children sounds quite sufficient."

"But if they are all males?"

"Nothing wrong with males. Reborn warriors from past battles! What could be more satisfying?"

"A sweet little elleth," Amarië answered dreamily.

Haldir grinned and kissed the tip of her nose. "We will know when the time comes. You may find that seven is quite enough."

She laughed and kissed him back. "Yes, meleth, I am sure we will know."

xxx

The next morning, she and Ennis met as planned in Galadriel's garden near her mirror. Quietly, side by side, they sat upon a stone bench and gazed at the cheerful little stream edged with blue and yellow flowers and creeping vines. A little while passed before Ennis spoke.

"Have you heard?" he asked nonchalantly. "I am a half-elf. They call it Peredhel."

She could not repress a smile. "Yes, I know. Have you seen Manwë?"

Ennis nodded. "I have chosen immortality."

"Oh, Ennis, so have I! I am so glad!" 

She gave him a quick hug, her mind racing to absorb the implications. Thank the Valar she would not have to lose her brother as she had so dreaded. Joy welled inside her, and she could feel tears threatening to fall. Ennis smiled and slipped his arm around her shoulders, and they sat in companionable silence for nearly a minute.

"Oh, by the way," he added suddenly, making it sound like an afterthought.

"Yes?" She glanced at him.

Ennis cleared his throat. "I wanted to tell you that . . . I now understand why I was not invited to your binding ceremony." His ears were pink with embarrassment.

Amarië stared, then she laughed and again embraced him. "You and Lornarië? You are bound to each other?"

"Aye." Ennis was still blushing. "I love her and she loves me. Galadriel seems to think we are meant for each other."

"Galadriel is very wise," Amarië agreed. "If she says it is so, then it is."

A small movement at the end of the garden caught her attention, and she turned her head. Lord Celeborn approached, his face serene, yet he looked glad to see them. Amarië and Ennis both rose as their grandfather came up to them and paused.

Lord Celeborn greeted them politely, then looked at her brother. "Ennis," he said, "Once more, and more properly than before, I welcome you to Lothlórien, the land of your father. It was not revealed to me that you were my grandson until after you left for Helm's Deep. As my kin, you of course have the right to live here in Lórien if you so choose. And I hope you will."

Ennis bowed. "Thank you, my lord," he replied. "I do wish it, and with good reason. Not only is my sister here, but Lornarië has done me the great honor of becoming my wife."

Celeborn smiled. "Yes, I can see in your eyes that you are bound. Perhaps we will have another celebration, but a small one. Now is a time of mourning and recovery, yet we must always remember to celebrate life and its renewal." His wise blue gaze encompassed them both. "You will be a great blessing to our people. Galadriel has foreseen this, and my heart tells me it is so."

"I would like to continue to improve my skills," Ennis put forth. "Perhaps eventually I might be permitted to assist in the protection of your borders. Our borders," he corrected with a shy smile.

Lord Celeborn nodded approvingly and set his hand upon Ennis' shoulder. "That would be well, grandson. We may have need of you. But you must also develop the special skills bestowed upon you by the Valar."

"Special skills?" Amarië repeated, suddenly recalling the red edging to the blue glow she had seen around Ennis. "What skills are these?"

Ennis turned to her, looking self-conscious. "Magic," he said wryly. "I am to be a practitioner of magic."

xxx

That evening, atop the highest flet in the city, Galadriel and Celeborn stood together, watching the sun sink into the west, its fiery blaze reminding Galadriel of her time so long ago in Valinor. Celeborn's face held no expression, for he never been to the Undying Lands, never seen the Two Trees that had brought light to the land of the Valar. And he never would, for they had been destroyed long ago by the dark lord and his accomplices.

"So what is next?" Celeborn asked her. "The One Ring is not destroyed. Have you seen or felt anything?"

"I have seen nothing about the One Ring, but my heart tells me that hope remains. There is still much good in the world. The world of Men rallies, and the Valar are on our side, as they have always been."

"At least my grandchildren survive and have begun to learn the truth of who they are. Amarië has accomplished the first part of her mission, and she has learned to trust. Ennis is learning that magic does not have to be evil. They will both continue to grow in wisdom."

"Yes," Galadriel said quietly. "I have foreseen much happiness for them both."

"And what of us?" Celeborn said. "Will we be happy?"

Galadriel glanced at him, wondering as she had done so many times before just who Celebrenin's mother had been. Celeborn had never told her and she had never asked. She knew it mattered not. She and Celeborn were fëa-mates who had searched for and found each other. Whom he had known before had never been a source of concern.

"I know not," she answered. "But I do know that I will go to Valinor long before you do."

Celeborn turned to her, and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "I have foreseen this too. For a time our paths will separate, but our destinies are entwined. I will join you one day in the Undying Lands. I love you, Galadriel, and always will. Our connection to each other will serve us well during our time apart."

"Yes," Galadriel agreed, sighing sadly. She turned her eyes to the west, knowing that the time of separation would be soon.

Epilogue to follow...


	19. Children

**Epilogue – Children**

_Many, many years later . . ._

"When did you say they are supposed to be here?" Haldir asked.

He glanced up from the book he was attempting to read over the shrieks and shouts of his children, three of whom were clambering among the tree branches high above him. Their antics resulted in frequent showers of leaves and twigs raining down upon his head and book. He sighed, but did not move his chair. He was quite comfortable.

"Any moment now," Amarië answered. "Rúmil and Brianna are bringing wine and poetry. Orophin and Cicely are bringing two berry pies, your favorite kind. I believe Ennis and Lornarië are bringing biscuits and fresh bread. Ferodir and—"

"Ada!" screeched Rolanth, their youngest son, from high above.

With lightning reflexes, Haldir dropped his book and leaped to his feet just in time to catch the child. "That is the third time today you have fallen!" he said in exasperation. "Are you so anxious to return to Mandos?"

Rolanth only giggled. None of the children retained any memories from their former lives; that would not come to them until they were older and their experience and knowledge had grown. Then they would be enriched by memories from both their lives. Rolanth, they had been told, had been slain in the battle of Nirnaeth Arnoediad during the first age, one of the earliest battles where the elves had fought against Morgoth. Another of their sons, Gilrion, had also died in that battle.

Amarië concealed a grin as she leaned over to pull a few weeds from her garden. Their six warriors from the past were certainly a handful. She glanced over at her husband. "Well, I suggested that he should stay on the ground, but you said he was fine."

"Perhaps you were right, meleth. I came to Valinor for peace and quiet, and have gotten precious little of it so far! Rolanth, you may not climb the tree again today. Your cousins will be here soon. You will sit on that chair until they arrive."

"Torin pushed me!" Rolanth whined. "It is not fair!"

Wearing a harassed expression, Haldir turned to Amarië. "If he moves from that chair, he will have no pie. That is my command. I am going for a walk."

"Yes, milord." Amarië's voice held a gentle note of teasing. "I think you are perhaps regretting our decision?"

Haldir came over and gave her a quick kiss on her cheek. "Which decision is that? To invite our brothers and their wives to our celebration? Or to include Ferodir and his litter of offspring?"

"No, our decision to have another child so soon."

He slipped an arm around her waist and nuzzled his mouth beneath her ear in just the way that made her shiver. "We have little choice in that. We have our duty to fulfill." He placed a hand upon her slightly rounded belly. "And it is far too late for second thoughts. The seventh already grows."

"Yes," she agreed, turning her head to kiss his lips. Simply to coax him into a better mood, she used the connection between them to send him a sweet sensation, a gentle, teasing stroke to put a smile on his face.

"Amarië," he growled into her ear. "I will have none of that right now. You will have to do much better than that to make me—ah, now that is much better, my fair temptress. How very nice. No, do not stop."

"We will do no more right now," she admonished. "That was only to cheer you up. Perhaps if you are good, we will do more later."

"If I am good," he repeated in astonishment. "Amarië, I think you are a little too used to talking to children! You forget who is the master here!"

"Nay, I do not," she shot back, grinning mischievously. "Now do not scowl. Look, they are here. You do not want me to do that to you in front of them. Look, Ferodir has brought all his daughters. I thought one of them had other plans."

"Trust Ferodir to have four daughters," Haldir muttered. "I have never seen that elf when he was not surrounded by females."

Indeed, Rúmil and Orophin and Ferodir had arrived, accompanied by their wives and multitudes of children. Haldir sometimes pretended he did not know which child belonged to which set of parents; this was his revenge for all their jokes about the number of his own offspring, not to mention the number of wagers made (unbeknownst to the wives) on various aspects of Haldir's personal habits. As much as he loved his brothers, he was very tired of their teasing.

Here in Valinor, none of them had chosen to live in the trees as they had done in Lórien. Haldir and Amarië had a snug, two-storied house near a pretty brook with gardens all around. They grew flowers and vegetables and children, not necessarily in that order. They seldom bickered and never argued, for the love between them had only grown, and their passion for each other still flared as hot as the day they had bound themselves together as husband and wife. Haldir sometimes remarked that he had more children than flowers in his garden, but in his heart he loved each of his sons and had time and again proven himself to be a fair and just father.

Ennis arrived last, with Lornarië and their twin sons. Both of their children were reborn warriors from the Battle of Dagor Bragollach back in the first age, and both were quiet and well-mannered and obedient. Haldir could only shake his head and sigh.

Ennis came directly over to Amarië and kissed her cheek. "You are looking well," he said calmly, then turned to greet Haldir, who had become his closest friend.

By now, Ennis seemed more elf than human. He spoke fluent Elvish, was familiar with all elven customs and manners, and dressed in the elvish style. He wore his black hair long with elvish braids expertly woven by Lornarië.

Haldir and Ennis spoke for a moment, while the children raced around, the ladies chatted, and Ferodir and Haldir's brothers proceeded to open the large flask of wine that Rúmil had brought.

Amid the commotion, Ennis glanced over at Amarië. "Do you realize she carries twins?"

Haldir's eyes widened. "Twins? Are you sure?"

Of course Ennis was sure. He always knew these things. It was he who had supplied them with knowledge about their reborn children, even to the point of giving them the name the child would wish to bear. Ennis's powers had grown, slightly to Amarië's envy, Haldir knew. Amarië could heat water with a spell, and heal her children's scratches and bruises, but it was Ennis whose magic ran strong and deep.

"You will have a male and a female," he told Haldir. Haldir watched in amazement as Ennis closed his eyes and proceeded to give him information that Haldir had no doubt would eventually prove true. He had seen it too many times to doubt.

"The male," Ennis continued, "is my father, Celebrenin. The female is . . . a Lórien maiden that Celebrenin knew in his youth. She died young. Killed by Orcs. Her name . . . Elandia. He loved her and she died. That is why he grew so wild." Ennis reopened his eyes and smiled. "You are going to have your hands full, Haldir. Twins are a great deal of work."

Haldir managed a feeble smile. If Ennis considered his own twins work, Haldir could only imagine what his and Amarië's would be like. "How wonderful," he replied, his mind whirling with the idea that his future son and daughter were likely to become romantically involved. Of course they would not truly be brother and sister; all reborn elves took back their original bodies. Still, he did not look forward to it. The Valar certainly had a mischievous sense of humor!

The afternoon's celebration marked the anniversary of their arrival in Valinor. All invited partook heartily of the food and drink; the children ran around and made noise and drove Haldir so insane that he decided to call in some favors he was owed. For once, he was successful; through a combination of favors, negotiations, threats, and in Ferodir's case, a blatant bribe, Haldir was able to foist all six of his children onto his guests.

Three hours later, when they all departed, Rúmil and Brianna took Rolanth along with them, and Orophin and Cicely took Torin and Gilrion. Ferodir and his wife agreed to take Mendelion, who was very popular with all Ferodir's daughters, while Ennis and Lornarië good-naturedly took Inglorian and Aridor. The children would be gone until the afternoon of the following day.

As far as Haldir was concerned, silence reigned for the first time in millennia.

Amarië laughed. "How did you manage it? All our little warriors gone at the same time! It is unbelievable!"

"You forget that the former March Warden of Lothlórien has diplomatic skills beyond those of a normal elf," he said smugly.

She smothered a giggle as he stalked toward her. "Diplomatic skills? Is that what you call it? They sounded like threats to me."

"Mock me not," he warned. "I intend to make good use of this time."

"And what would you consider good use?" she inquired, just as he scooped her into his arms and headed into the house.

"Hot sex," he said succinctly. "You and me. As many times as I can physically manage it. In every possible location in our home."

"Good gracious, don't you think that's a little ambitious?"

"Not really. Did you know you are carrying twins? I think we'll start in the bedroom. It may not be adventurous, but it is the most comfortable."

"Twins!" she squeaked as he dropped her down on the bed. "Ennis told you it would be twins?"

"Yes. Now you know the reason for all this pent-up tension inside of me." He was undressing as he talked, peeling off his tunic and leggings with a deftness that told her how eager he was. Now he was undressing her, slipping off her shoes and shoving up her gown. His hands slide up her thighs and over her hips, caressing her belly, up her ribcage, to settle on her breasts.

"Someday it will not be like this," she reminded him breathlessly, "with them so young and sweet and innocent. They will be grown and mature."

"And presenting us with noisy and boisterous grandchildren,' he added. He sat back and gave her smoldering look. "Help me, Amarië. I do not wish to rip your gown."

"So polite," she murmured seductively. And sent him a sizzling message along their connection as she sat up and pulled her gown off over her head.

"That does it," he said. He tossed her gown aside and grabbed hold of her wrists, pinning her down with his body. "Consider yourself under my authority," he murmured arrogantly.

"Oh, is that what you're calling it now? Well, your authority seems to be growing."

His answer was a low growl. His mouth fastened hungrily on hers, his warm tongue tangling with her tongue as he settled himself against her. He kissed her throat, tasting and licking her, moving his mouth downward to her breasts with their rosy-tipped nipples that he loved so much. She was softness personified, her skin like the petals of a flower, and so sweet he nearly died whenever he had her like this.

Each time they made love it was like the coming of spring—familiar, yet fresh and new and wonderful. For the rest of the day they enjoyed each other, spending time in between the lovemaking to talk and to laugh before starting all over again. Finally, well into the evening, they snuggled together on a divan in their parlor.

"Haldir," she said tenderly, "I love you more than you can imagine."

"I love you too, Amarië. You are beautiful in all ways. I thank the Valar each day for you."

"And I for you."

For a little while it was quiet. Then Haldir spoke again. "Twins, Amarië. Your father and the love of his youth, who died young. Celebrenin and Elandia. Do you know what this means?"

"That she will need sisters?" Amarië suggested hopefully.

Haldir buried his face in her hair. "I am going to scream."

"Do not scream, _meleth_. Nothing needs to be decided now. We will know when the time comes if it is right."

"The best thing about having children," he remarked, "is watching your belly grow. I find it extremely erotic."

"I enjoy watching your parts grow too. I find that extremely erotic."

Delighted, he laughed softly. "Galadhrim arrows are still the best."

"Indeed," Amarië answered with a small smile. "I can vouch for that."

THE END  
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